The Prisoner of Azkaban 2: The Goblet of Fire
by kckfchicks
Summary: The second book in the 'Prisoner' series. Sirius Black is on the run after escaping the clutches of the Ministry of Magic. This is the fourth book through Sirius's eyes, again, with more you never knew about. PG13 for language FINISHED!
1. Hardly a Vacation

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A/N: Hi everyone! This is the second installment of my Prisoner of Azkaban series, and I really hope that you enjoy it! But, obviously, I don't own any of the characters--they're all the masterful JKR's. The plot, however, IS mine. Just about everything except for the things that I borrowed from JKR. So, ©, okay, ©!!

But other than being nice and not stealing, I really hope that you enjoy…

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The Prisoner of Azkaban 2:

The Goblet of Fire

Based on books 1-5 by J.K. Rowling

By Kirsten

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Chapter 1

Hardly a Vacation

Sirius Black was awake, but not at all willing to make the effort to get up. He felt something pecking gently at his head, and he waved it off, and rolled over with a sleepy grumble. But the pecking persisted, and Sirius opened one eye reluctantly to see Buckbeak the hippogriff looking at him expectantly.

"Well?" Sirius asked it. "What the heck d'you want?"

The hippogriff cocked its feathered head confusedly.

Sirius glared at it teasingly, and pushed himself into a sitting position. He honestly had no idea where he had been hiding the last couple months, after his escape from Hogwarts, but it was beautiful. Sandy beaches, and tropical waters were all he could see for miles. Behind him, deeper into the island, there were fruits to eat, and enough shade to keep him satisfied for days.

"I was sleeping; what do you want?" Sirius repeated. He petted it lovingly. Buckbeak had been Sirius's only companion all summer, and he was growing quite fond of him. His strong horse body and eagle front was interesting, and Sirius was rather proud to be able to say that he owned a hippogriff. Not that he could brag about it to anyone on this island.

Sirius scratched sand out of his matted hair, and looked out at the crystal-blue waters that stretched out for miles before him. Being alone all summer had left much time for thinking—too much, in Sirius's opinion. For there were so many things in Sirius's past that he would rather forget.

For one, it was the fact that one of his best friends from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Peter Pettigrew, had turned to the evil Lord Voldemort and betrayed them all. That betrayal had led to the murder of James and Lily Potter—both of whom Sirius had loved like a brother and sister. But the worst part of losing two of his friends was the fact that when Sirius tracked down Peter to avenge their deaths, Peter framed Sirius for the murder of 12 non-magic muggles and Peter himself.

For this, Sirius had been sent to Azkaban Prison for 12 years. When he escaped, bent on revenge, Sirius followed Peter to Hogwarts. Here, he saw his godson, and James and Lily's only child, Harry, for the first time in years. He was so grown-up; it was amazing. It seemed like just yesterday that the Potters were carting a five-month-old Harry to his house for Christmas…

It was on that fateful night that Harry had learned about how his parents _really _died, and how Peter was the one to blame. Another of Sirius's Marauding friends, Remus Lupin, had had a hand in helping Harry learn the truth, and for that, Sirius was forever grateful.

But Peter had escaped from Sirius's clutches, leaving Sirius with no other choice but to flee the country. Which landed him here—wherever the heck that was.

Sirius glanced at Buckbeak again. He was now digging his claws into the sand, scavenging for something. Sirius stood up and walked to his stock of fruits a few paces away. He only had about a dozen left, and in the back of his mind, he made a mental note to find more. He grabbed two, and tossed one to Buckbeak. The hippogriff excitedly dove its beak into the fruit and ate heartily. Sirius went back to his spot in the shade of the trees and sat down again tiredly.

Sirius looked blankly at the fruit in his hands. He found that he really wasn't hungry. He thought of what his wife-to-be, Arabella Figg, would say if she knew he wasn't eating. With her in mind, he took a bite, and sat down next to Buckbeak.

Belle was still in England, and Sirius couldn't have missed her more. She was working with Albus Dumbledore in the Order of the Phoenix. Belle was protecting Harry as his Secret Keeper, posing as a Squib across the street from Harry's aunt and uncle, though Harry knew nothing about her wizarding background. Belle told Sirius that she preferred it that way. Knowing Belle how he did, he guessed it was so that she wouldn't have to revisit losing Lily and James, if Harry ever asked about them.

"What do you think, Buckbeak? Time for a relaxing nap?" Sirius asked the hippogriff. It burped.

"I'll take that as a definite yes," Sirius said, setting down his unfinished breakfast, and stretching out on the sand again, digging his toes into the cool grains and closing his eyes.

He had been asleep for less that a quarter of an hour, when he felt something pecking on his head again.

"What, now, Buckbeak?" Sirius muttered groggily. But, when he opened his eyes, Buckbeak was splashing in the water, and there was a snowy white owl perched on top of Sirius's head. "Hedwig?" Sirius muttered, helping Harry's owl off his head. "News from Harry?" he asked it, as she stuck out her leg. He shimmied the note off of it, and offered the magnificent bird the remains of his fruit, which she ate gratefully.

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Dear Sirius,

Thanks for your last letter. That bird was enormous; it could hardly get through my window.

Things are the same as usual here. Dudley's diet isn't going too well. My aunt found him smuggling doughnuts into his room yesterday. They told him they'd have to cut his pocket money if he keeps doing it, so he got really angry and chucked his Playstation out of the window. (That's a sort of computer thing you can play games on.) Bit stupid, really, now he hasn't even got Mega-Mutilation Part Three_ to take his mind off things._

I'm okay, mainly because the Dursley's are terrified you might turn up and turn them all into bats if I ask you to.

Sirius chuckled. _Turn them into bats…sounds like fun._

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A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again. Last time that happened it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts. But I don't reckon he can be anywhere near me now, can he? Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt years afterward?

I'll send this with Hedwig when she gets back; she's off hunting at the moment. Say hello to Buckbeak for me.

Harry

"Hey, Buckbeak! Harry says hi," Sirius said offhandedly, as he stared at the parchment. Harry's scar was hurting.

The night of Lily and James's murder, when Voldemort had broken into their house in Godric's Hollow, Voldemort had tried to murder little Harry as well, in hopes of finishing off the Potter line forever. But the Avada Kedavra curse had failed, leaving Harry with a lightening bolt shaped scar on his forehead and marking him for life as "the boy who lived." And now the scar was hurting, just as Voldemort was on the rise again?

There was only one thing for it. Sirius was coming back to England—there were too many strange happenings going on, and Sirius couldn't let Harry be in the middle of it. He was Harry's godfather; after all, it was his duty to Lily and James to help Harry in his times of need.

Sirius told Hedwig to stay put, and he dashed back into the shade of the trees, still clutching Harry's letter. Nearby his pile of fruit, Sirius headed for the pile of parchment and bottle of ink that Belle had sent him recently. He grabbed a piece and his quill and ink, and hurriedly wrote to Harry.

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Harry—

I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore—they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is.

I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry.

Sirius

He attached the note to Hedwig's leg and sent her off. Sirius then took his quill, a few pieces of paper, and his bottle of ink, and jammed them into his robes.

"Buckbeak," called Sirius, and the hippogriff came to his side quickly. "We're going home."


	2. Remus & Belle

**A/N:** Hi guys. Hope you allliked chapter one. I won't waste any time and I'll get on with chapter 2! Bythe way, I'd really appreciate it if you could spread the word somehow that I'm posting again! But most importantly, ENJOY!

**Chapter 2**

**Remus & Belle**

It took quite awhile to fly back to Belle's house, and getting there was most uneventful. Sirius found that flying overseas was not as entertaining as he originally thought, and wished that he had been smart enough to stay on one continent.

But as the days past, he found he was very excited to see his fiancé again. Sure, he had gotten innumerable letters from her, but it just wasn't the same as seeing her beautiful face smiling back at him.

So one night, after flying all day, an exhausted Buckbeak collapsed in Belle's small backyard, among the trees. With a yawn equally big as Buckbeak's, Sirius made his way to the backdoor. He tugged on the handle, but found that it was locked. Sirius looked down and saw that Belle's cat-door was waiting to be used. Sirius transformed into his Animangus dog form and crammed himself through. The door flapped shut behind him.

He sniffed around the kitchen for a moment, hoping that all of Belle's "cats," that were actually Animangi, weren't home. But, not sensing any strange smells, Sirius transformed back into a human and scrambled to his feet.

The crescent moonlight filtered in through Belle's curtains, giving them a ghostly glow. Sirius made his way to the refrigerator, excited to gobble down anything that wasn't fruit-related. He pulled it open, and its fluorescent light spilled onto the tiled floor. He pulled out a jar of milk and took a long swig, relishing the taste. He wiped off his mouth, and returned it to the fridge.

He knew that Belle was probably asleep, and he contemplated waking her. Sirius looked up at the kitchen clock. It was 1:56am. After a moment's hesitation, he decided that Belle would be happy to see him, and wouldn't mind being awakened at almost two in the morning.

So, Sirius made his way out of the kitchen, and into the dark living room. Sirius turned the corner and was about to start towards the stairs, when he heard a sleepy grunt from the living room couch. Frightened of being caught, Sirius popped immediately into a dog.

Cautiously, he edged his way back into the living room, his big, black paws hardly making a sound on the carpet. He inched right up to the couch, and peered at the sleeping bulge that was resting upon it.

Sirius's eyes grew wide in confusion.

Remus Lupin was sleeping on Belle's couch.

"No way," Sirius whispered as he transfigured himself back into a human. He stared at Remus, not sure whether to be puzzled or outraged that his best friend was sleeping on his girlfriend's couch.

Remus finally rolled over, and slowly opened his drooping eyes. When he at last registered that someone was staring at him as he slept, he let out a loud shout, and sat up, stick straight, clutching his wand.

"Oh—Sirius!" Remus breathed, once his wand was lit. "It's just you… I thought you were in hiding—what are you doing here?" He let his wand fall into his lap, and the light was dimmed slightly as the tip of his wand settled into the folds of his blanket.

"I could ask the same of you!" Sirius exclaimed grouchily. "Why are _you_ here? You have your own house! _I_ was going to stay on the couch!"

"Come on, Sirius. I've got just as much a right to be here as you do," Remus said calmly.

Sirius wanted to shout, _Oh, no you don't! She's my fiancé! _But he quickly remembered that Remus knew nothing of Belle and Sirius's engagement. In fact, nobody did—not even Harry or Albus Dumbledore.

"Look," Sirius said, taking a deep breath. "I'm the escaped convict here—you've got your own place—I _need _to stay here."

"Yes, well, about that…"

"What are you doing here, anyway? Been hanging out with Belle, have you?" Sirius demanded, trying to control his temper. Remus wouldn't realize he was doing anything wrong if he was flirting around with Belle… _But honestly, could my luck BE any worse?!_

"That's not it, Sirius—"

"Oh it _isn't_, is it? Then what? Because I'm pretty confused as to _why_ you'd be sleeping on her _couch_ if—"

"I don't have enough galleons to pay my bills, Sirius," Remus blurted. Sirius fell silent.

Remus had never really been 'well off', but Sirius had always thought he made enough money to get by—at least enough money to keep his house. Sure, Remus was a werewolf, but that didn't mean he couldn't hold a job, or that he was dangerous. Dumbledore had been nice enough to allow Remus to work at Hogwarts last year as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but Remus had been forced to resign once Severus Snape let it slip that Remus was a werewolf.

"Thanks to Dolores Umbridge and her racism against half-breeds, the Ministry is keeping my house and everything in it, until I can come up with enough money to pay my debts," Remus continued with a sigh. He leaned back on the couch in defeat. "I don't know what to do, Sirius."

Sirius really didn't know what to say. Remus had always been the one with the good advice when they were younger—Sirius had only been the one to go to when you needed a laugh.

"I could pay them for you," Sirius suggested. He had plenty of money… so much that sometimes he didn't even know what to do with it. His whole stupid bloodline had been rich.

"No," Remus shook his head, "I don't want any charity money."

"Don't be so thick—it's not charity money! I want to help!" Sirius argued.

"Sirius, no… please, I don't need it."

"Just a loan, then," Sirius fought back, though Remus showed no signs of cracking. "You can pay be back whenever you want…"

"Sirius, I can't do that—and I won't let you waste your money like that," Remus said, the volume in his voice rising slowly.

"How is it a waste of my money, Remus?!" Sirius cried, his voice rising to a shout. "I want to help you!"

"Because!" Remus bellowed at the top of his lungs, causing Sirius to stumble back. Remus literally _never _shouted. Sirius couldn't even remember the last time Remus had even spoken to him with a stern voice. Usually, Remus was "disappointed" in you, which was almost worse than shouting.

Remus took a deep breath. "The last time I borrowed money from someone, it was James, and now I can never pay him back."

His words dangled in the air, a taunting reminder of that tragic Halloween night when Lily and James were killed. The picture of James lying facedown by the sofa resurfaced in Sirius's mind. Remus put his head in his hands. Not knowing what else to do, Sirius clapped his hand on Remus's shoulder.

"I miss them so much sometimes…" Remus's voice nearly unmanned him, and Sirius felt on the verge of tears and he gulped.

"Me too," Sirius breathed.

"And when I think of Harry… he never knew them, Sirius," Remus said, looking up and staring in the darkness.

"I know."

"Why did it have to happen, Sirius?" his voice wavered. "Why did You-Know-Who have to take them?"

But the three simple words '_You-Know-Who'_ burned in Sirius's ears. He took his hand away from Remus's shoulder and stared at him. "How dare you! How _dare _you call Voldemort You-Know-Who! Only the cowards call him that! You're braver than that, Remus…"

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Remus said, taken aback. "I didn't even realize—"

"We were marauders, Remus. You were the one who said 'marauders aren't afraid of anything'!" Sirius said angrily.

"_Were _marauders? If I remember correctly, it was _you_ who said 'once a marauder, always a marauder'," Remus said, with the smallest hint of a smile.

"Sounds familiar," Sirius sighed, his frustration instantly escaping him.

He slunk into a chair opposite his friend. Sirius had had too many outbursts over the years for Remus to take any of them seriously. Sirius sat there in silence for a moment or two in contemplation. Through the dim wandlight, Sirius could see that Remus was watching him intently.

"Why did you never tell me about all of this?" Sirius asked him. "When you wrote me, why didn't you ever say that you needed money or that you were here at Belle's?"

"I don't know. Didn't seem like it mattered," Remus said softly. "I mean, what was I going to say? 'Oh, by the way, I'm homeless'? Not exactly a pleasant start to a conversation, if you ask me."

"Guess you're right," Sirius muttered.

At that moment, the living room light flickered on, making Remus's wandlight obsolete. The men both looked towards the light switch, and saw Belle standing there in her pajamas and robe, staring at Sirius in awe.

Sirius rose to his feet, looking at her. In that fraction of a second, Sirius felt more at home than he had in his entire life.

"Sirius! What—what are you doing here?!" she cried, her dark black curls bouncing as she ran to his arms. He embraced her strongly, never wanting to let go. He wanted to kiss her, to tell her how much her letters had meant to him—how each one was folded up carefully in his pocket at that very moment, and how much he had missed her…

But with Remus sitting directly behind him, he knew that he couldn't mention a word of it, and Belle seemed to feel the same. They both had agreed at the beginning of the summer that no one was to know of their secret engagement. For if someone found out, Belle would most likely be hauled into the Ministry for questioning of Sirius's current location, and then her reputation in the wizarding world would be crushed.

Sirius released Belle unwillingly, though the both of them were all smiles.

"I suppose Remus has told you why he's here?" she asked him, masking a small chuckle. Sirius didn't doubt that she had heard every word of his jealous accusations.

"Yeah…"

"He's staying with me until he can get a handle on things—" Belle replied, "or until that asshole of a Ministry decides to back off."

"Now, now, Belle, no reason to swear," Remus laughed from the couch.

"Honestly! It's so vulgar!" Sirius shook his head at her and clucked his tongue. "You'll never find someone to marry you with a dirty mouth like that."

With a glare, Belle elbowed him painfully in the stomach.

"I was just kidding!" Sirius whimpered.

"I know," she said simply. She raised her eyebrows at him, and made for the kitchen. Sirius made a face at Remus, and sat back down across from him. Belle reentered the room holding a milk bottle.

"So, who drank three-quarters of my milk?" she asked, shaking the bottle.

"Er, wasn't me…" Sirius said easily.

She rolled her eyes. "Want the rest?"

"Why not?" Sirius shrugged. "Not that it was me who drank it in the first place. It was probably Remus…" he sniggered, accepting the bottle from Belle, and chugging the rest of the liquid.


	3. Secret Keeping

**A/N: **_Here's the next chapter. I'll probably be able to post more often during Christmas break, since this week I'm swamped with shows and homework-- who would have thought two honors classes would be such a drag?! Anyway, I hope you're all enjoying the story--it'll pick up as it gets further along.**

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**Chapter 3**

**Secret Keeping**

"I didn't know you were coming! What else did you want me to do?" Belle whispered the next afternoon. Sirius and Belle hadn't had a moment alone all morning, and though Sirius was happy to see Remus again, he wanted a chance to talk to his bride-to-be without having to worry about letting anything slip.

"I don't know," Sirius sighed. Remus was just inside, and Sirius and Belle were supposedly feeding Buckbeak. "I feel like an idiot hiding this from him. He's my best friend—he deserves to know."

"We already talked about this, Sirius…" Belle groaned, stroking Buckbeak's feathers, and throwing a glance over her shoulder at the kitchen window.

"I know, I know…"

"I don't like keeping this from him either," Belle sympathized. "We'll tell him eventually—he'll be the first to know when the time is right."

"Yeah," Sirius sighed again.

"So," Belle said, with a small smile, "have you gotten me a ring yet?"

Sirius laughed. "I'm working on it."

"I'm only kidding…"

"No you're not. You want a ring, I'll get you a ring," Sirius said, checking if the coast was clear before kissing her cheek. "We'd better go inside—Remus will be wondering what's taking so long."

"Just a few more seconds…" Belle pleaded, taking his hand. "I've missed you."

Sirius stepped toward her and kissed her forehead. "I've missed you more," he put his arms around her and held her close. "You don't know how boring it is talking to a hippogriff all day," he joked.

"I can only imagine," Belle laughed, looking at Buckbeak's acute, amber eyes. She kissed him, and they walked back towards the door, dropping the other's hand only when they felt they had to.

Roughly a week later, Belle and Sirius were finding it hard to hide from Remus anymore. During the evenings, when everyone was reading parts of the _Prophet, _while drinking coffee, Sirius wanted nothing more to blurt out "Belle and I are getting married, Remus." But he always bit his tongue just in time, after a resolute look at Belle.

But one morning at breakfast, Sirius received a letter from Harry, which took his mind immediately off the secret he was keeping from his best friend.

Dear Sirius,

I reckon I just imagined my scar hurting. I was half asleep when I wrote to you last time. There's no point in coming back, everything's fine here. Don't worry about me, my head feels completely normal.

Harry

"'My head feels completely normal!'" Sirius laughed, as he showed the note to Remus. "What does he take me for?"

"A total idiot?" Remus suggested. "In my opinion, he's right on the mark."

"Ha, ha, very funny," Sirius grumbled. "We'll see what he has to say when I tell him I'm already in Europe. Should I tell him you're with me?"

"No," said Remus, "and tell him he shouldn't use Hedwig all the time. Snowy owls aren't native to this area—she'll attract too much attention."

"Good thinking."

Sirius grabbed a piece of parchment and dipped a quill into an ink well.

Nice try, Harry,

I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar.

Sirius

"You'll be a father-figure yet, my friend," Remus congratulated, reading over Sirius's letter. "Quite good advice."

"That means a lot, coming from one such as yourself, Moony, old pal," Sirius snickered, folding up the letter, and attaching it to Hedwig's leg.

"Guess what I hear is coming back to Hogwarts?" Remus asked Sirius.

"What's that?" Sirius let Hedwig free out the kitchen window, and turned back to the table where he and Remus had been sitting.

"The Triwizard Tournament. Old Barty Crouch has been planning it for ages, I hear. Harry's in for quite a treat," Remus smiled.

"Wow! Really? The Triwizard Tournament?" Sirius was shocked. He had only read about the famed tournament, but remembered that it was always associated with deaths. "Have they made it safer or something? What schools are competing?"

"Of course they made it safer," Remus waved this aside. "Durmstrang and Beuaxbatons are going to Hogwarts."

"Wonder who the champions'll be?" Sirius thought aloud. "Think Harry will enter?" Sirius asked him, with a wild gleam in his eyes.

"He won't be allowed: Crouch has upped the minimum age requirement to seventeen. Safety reasons," Remus explained.

"Harry could do it," Sirius said. He realized what he was suggesting was out there, but he had faith in his godson—if he could take on a Basilisk, like it was rumored he had, he could handle whatever tasks the judges threw at him.


	4. The Worst Holiday

**A/N: **_Hey guys! Great news! The Geek Squad from Best Buy came today to fix my laptop, so I can post all the time now! YAY!! Okay, you all might not be as thrilled as me, but I can't wait._

_Anyway. You know the drill—read and review.

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**Chapter 4**

**The Worst Holiday**

Sirius lay on a mattress on the floor behind the couch where Remus slept. The autumn sun was blinding Sirius, and he turned his back to it. Today was the day. The fourteenth anniversary. Halloween was the worst holiday there was. What on earth was there to be happy about on a day like this?

It was funny—it seemed like only yesterday that Sirius had been over at the Potters' house, playing with baby Harry and catching up on things with James and Lily.

But then Halloween had struck and everything changed. That was the night that Voldemort had come and ruined Sirius's life.

Sirius could remember arriving at the Potters' that night more vividly than anything else. It had been all Sirius could think about last night, and now the events were pounding in his brain again.

Sirius had parked his flying motorbike, and walked up to the Potters' door. It was loose on its hinges. He had entered the house, calling their names… _"Prongs? Lil?"_ That's when he saw it.

James's dead body was sprawled out by the sofa, glasses askew, and wand in hand. His heart had been practically wrenched out of his chest, his eyes burning with the sight of his dead best friend. He had tried to wake James up… _"James? Prongs? Speak to me, buddy…" _In that moment, the only thing he wanted was for James to blink his eyes open and smile up at him, laughing how he had fooled Sirius again—why did Sirius always fall for his jokes?

But he hadn't said anything. He was petrified with a look of betrayal and pain in his blue eyes. Sirius had never been so afraid in his life. _"…The marauders aren't afraid of anything…"_

He had pounded up the stairs, reluctantly leaving James's body behind. He was headed for the Lily and James's bedroom—but Harry's door was ajar, so he went there instead.

And there was Lily, brilliant Lily—at the base of Harry's crib, cold and lifeless. Even in death, she was beautiful: her bright green eyes were strong and defiant. But her limp hands and her pale skin had cracked Sirius.

He had fallen to his knees then, and cried for the both of them. Cried and cried and cried… just like he was doing now, just like he had cried last night, all the while, praying Remus wouldn't hear him…

They were gone… dead and gone forever.

_But there was Harry…_ Little Harry. All alone from that point on. "The boy who lived" they called him. How could he live without ever knowing his parents?

Sirius had thought everything would be all right if he could have kept Harry—held him until the world ended. But Hagrid had come and taken him too—snatched him right out of his arms to take him to live with Muggles for eleven years.

It had been that night that made him into the "murderer" that he was today. But then he had only been angry… but now? There was an empty place in his heart, and this day was nothing to celebrate.

Halloween.

Sirius laughed softly to himself, wiping the tears off of his face, thinking of the pranks he and James had pulled on the Halloweens of the past. How Snape and Malfoy hated them on Halloween. How Sirius had no idea what to do with himself now.

Sirius wondered bitterly where that rat Peter was, and if he was even thinking about Lily and James right now.

He didn't want to get out of bed—he didn't want to do anything.

It was Halloween. The day Lily and James had been stolen forever.

Sirius breathed deeply, turning his face into his pillow.

"All right, Sirius?" Remus asked from the couch.

Embarrassed, Sirius wiped his face clean with his hands, and lay flat on his back. "Fine. You?"

"Couldn't be worse," he sighed.

"Yeah, me too," Sirius confessed, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath. He pushed back his covers, and put his face over the back of the couch to observe Remus.

"Want some breakfast?" Sirius suggested. "Might help some. Coffee, maybe?"

"No," he pulled his covers close. "No thanks."

"I'm going to check on Belle," Sirius told him. "You let me know if you want something." Sirius said softly, though he wasn't much in the mood for breakfast either.

He walked down the hall and up the stairs to Belle's room. He knocked gently on her door.

"Come in," she sniffed. Sirius pushed the door open, and saw Belle sitting upright in her bed. Her eyes were bloodshot.

"Happy Halloween," she whispered, her lips dry, and her voice precariously close to sobbing.

"Don't see what could possibly be happy about it," Sirius said quietly, approaching her.

He sat down next to her, and leaned back on the headboard. He closed his eyes and put his arm around her. She put her head on his chest.

Belle started to tremble, holding back tears. Sirius kissed the top of her head, and she broke down into hysterics. Her tears were gliding down her face like never-ceasing rivers.

"Shh… It's all right…" Sirius comforted.

"I'm s-so s-sorry, Sirius…" Belle choked between sobs.

"You have nothing to be sorry about… nothing…" Sirius told her, cradling her in his arms, and rocking her gently. Belle desperately tried to stem her tears.

"I called you a m-murderer… I said you killed them—I s-said—"

"It's all right…"

"I s-said it was your fault… I c-called you a liar… I'm s-sorry… you didn't… I shouldn't've…"

"Belle, you didn't know… It's all right…"

"I'm s-sorry…"

"No, Belle, don't be…" Sirius whispered, hugging her tighter. She was trembling with sadness, and Sirius knew that this had nothing to do with her feeling guilty. Neither Belle, nor Sirius, nor Remus had ever had a chance to grieve for their friends—never had a chance to be together, to cry together…

"I want to tell Remus about us today," Sirius said, hardly even realizing he had been thinking about this in the back of his mind all last night.

"What?" Belle looked up at him. "No, not today…"

"Then when, Belle?" Sirius said quietly, staring at Belle's dresser. There was a picture of her, Sirius, Remus, James and Lily there, framed. They were all smiling, dressed in their Hogwarts graduation robes.

"It's kind of like we're telling them too, you know?" Sirius breathed, more to himself than her.

"But Sirius…" Belle murmured. In that moment, he realized that his own face was wet with teardrops.

"It'll get easier, I promise," Sirius said, voice cracking.

But the rest of the day wasn't any better than that morning had been. When darkness fell over the neighborhood, Muggle children would come up to the door, ringing the echoing bell over and over, calling for candy.

But Belle never answered the door. They were all just sitting in silence. Sirius hadn't even realized that they were sitting in the darkness, until Remus got up to turn the light on.

It was almost like they were waiting for something—for anything: a sign, or a single word from their best friends. But nothing came.

They were so quiet, sometimes Sirius could hear the kids outside on the street saying, "no—don't bother with Mrs. Figg's house. She never has candy. She answered her door for me last year—she didn't even say Happy Halloween. She just cried… Mad old lady, she is…"

"Remus, there's something we want to tell you," Sirius said suddenly. Belle's face shot up out of her hands, and she looked at him like he was crazy. She shook her head slightly.

"What's that?" Remus asked.

"Belle and I," Sirius began, taking Belle's hand, "are getting married." He held his breath, wondering what his friend would say.

But if this at all surprised Remus, he didn't show it. "It's about time," he replied with a hint of a grin.

"Excuse me?" Belle choked. "What do you mean 'it's—'"

"It's about time that you said something," he repeated. "Honestly, I thought you weren't ever going to say anything."

"You knew?!" Belle exclaimed, but Sirius just laughed—something he had not expected to do today. "I've been stressing out this whole time… and you _knew?!"_

"How could I not?" Remus chuckled. "Really, all those long trips into the backyard to feed Buckbeak… I knew something was up."

"Damn you, Remus," Belle teased, slapping her forehead.

"Remus, my friend," Sirius said, looking at him, "you rock."

The next morning, however, brought news that surprised _everyone_ in Belle's house.

Sirius was in the kitchen, cleaning up from breakfast, and Remus and Belle were seated in the living room, reading the paper.

Sirius was humming slightly as he scrubbed the pan that Remus had made pancakes in. He still wasn't feeling all together himself, but the sadness of yesterday was wearing off. He remembered with a pang that last year, he hadn't thought of Lily or James once on Halloween—he had been so focused on catching Peter that he hadn't even had the decency to remember that it had been Halloween.

"Sirius! There's an owl here for you…" Belle called to him.

"Yeah?" Sirius took the plate he had been drying, and put it away in the cabinet.

"It's a barn owl," she answered, and Sirius walked into the room to see a large owl flapping its wings tiredly on the coffee table in front of Belle and Remus. They both were watching the owl with amusement.

Sirius hurried over to it, assuming it was from Harry. He knelt before it, and pulled the scroll off of its leg.

_Dear Sirius,_

_You told me to keep you posted on what's happening at Hogwarts, so here goes—I don't know if you've heard, but the Triwizard Tournament's happening this year and on Saturday night I got picked as a fourth champion. I don't know who put my name in the Goblet of Fire, because I didn't. The other Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory, from Hufflepuff._

_Hope you're okay, and Buckbeak—Harry_

"What the hell?!" Sirius yelled, staring blankly at Harry's letter. "He's one of the champions for the Triwizard!"

"You're joking," Remus said, looking up from his paper. "That's impossible; the age limit was seventeen."

"No—he said he doesn't know who put his name in, but he got picked!" Sirius cried. He had thought Harry would be a great champion, but he didn't actually think Harry could enter—the Triwizard Tournament was dangerous.

"You've got to write to him—this must be some mistake," Belle said, puzzled.

"This is nuts," Sirius muttered. "I don't want to write him a letter—I need to see him. I need to talk to him, face to face."

"That's too risky Sirius," Remus said, the voice of reason.

"Besides, there's no way you could get to Hogwarts without being sighted," Belle agreed.

"Fine—with floo powder then," Sirius argued. "I have too much to say to him—none of it safe to put into a letter."

Remus and Belle considered. "Fair enough," Belle decided. "I don't have any, because I can Apperate—but I could get some before the end of the month. Tell him the 22nd of November."

"Tell Harry to be alone in the Gryffindor common room at one o'clock in the morning on the 22nd," Remus advised.

"All right, fine," Sirius went back into the kitchen and pulled out a quill, his head still spinning.

_Harry—_

_I can't say everything I'd like to in a letter, it's too risky in case the owl is intercepted—we need to talk face-to-face .Can you ensure that you'll be alone by the fire in the Gryffindor Tower at one o'clock in the morning on the 22nd of November?_

_I know better than anyone else that you can look after yourself, and while you're around Dumbledore and Moody I don't think anyone will be able to hurt you. However, someone seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that tournament would have been very risky, especially right under Dumbledore's nose._

_Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd of November as quickly as you can._

_Sirius_

"You know who else I should write to?" Sirius said, not yet giving the letter to the barn owl.

"Dumbledore?"

"Exactly," Sirius said, pulling out another piece of parchment out.

He took a deep breath. He hadn't really written to Dumbledore. Ever. Sure, he had told himself that he would, time after time, he told himself to write to the headmaster, but never really got himself to do it. But now that he was facing the parchment, with the quill in his hand, he didn't know what to say.

But this was about Harry. This was about Harry somehow being named champion. But it was also about more than that.

Sirius still had to thank Dumbledore for saving his life—he had to tell Dumbledore he was back in the country. He also thought he should tell Dumbledore about his and Belle's engagement, but somehow, that just felt odd.

So, after taking a deep breath, and clutching the feather quill a little tighter, Sirius began to write to his old headmaster in the best handwriting he could manage:

_Professor Dumbledore,_

_First of all, I'm eternally sorry for not writing to you sooner. I'm sure you know It's been tough being on the run like this, and I just haven't had the time. But I wanted to say, before I get to anything else, how grateful I am for your rescue. I still don't know how you managed it, really, but it was impressive, and I owe you my life._

_I've been in contact with Harry. But I must admit, I'm confused. I just received a letter from him saying that he's been selected as the fourth champion for the Triwizard Tournament. What's that all about? I'm back in the country now, and I've been wondering if I should move closer to Harry. I want to be able to help if… anything were to happen. I know that he'll be safe with you and Mad-Eye at Hogwarts, but still. I can't help but worry. I'm arranging to meet with Harry via floo powder at the end of the month, if I can get my hands on some powder. _

_Anyway, tell me if you think there's any way I can help. You know I want to._

_Thank you, Dumbledore. For everything. Literally._

_Sirius_

He slipped the letters onto the owl's leg. "Take Dumbledore's his first. Okay?" he told the owl. It hooted serenely.


	5. Into the Fire

**A/N: **_In honor of JKR posting on her official website that we'll know when HBP is coming out in under twenty four hours, it seemed only fitting to… well, to post again. 24 hours and we'll know! AH! I'm so excited! But you know what scares me? What on earth and I going to do with myself once book seven is done? Yikes—time to find a non-Harry Potter related hobby…

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**Chapter 5**

**Into the Fire**

Sirius couldn't wait to see Harry again—even if Sirius's face was going to be stuffed in a fireplace. It was the one thing he was really looking forward to, and he kept bugging Belle to hurry up and go to Diagon Alley to pick up the floo powder.

"I'm getting to it!" Belle would snap. "I know you need it by the 22nd, for crying out loud."

Sirius would then get frustrated and go out back to pet Buckbeak.

But when roughly two weeks had past since he mailed his letters to Dumbledore and Harry, he found something quite interesting in the _Daily Prophet. _Actually, it really wasn't hard to miss, as it was spread over the front page, the second, and sixth and seventh pages.

It was pretty much the most hilarious thing that the newspaper had every printed. Mostly because it was the most inaccurate life-story of Harry Potter that Sirius had ever seen.

Harry Potter. The boy who lived. He's a legend—a hero. The one who defeated the Dark Lord all those many years ago. But Harry Potter is no longer that young boy, writes Rita Skeeter, special correspondent.

An ugly scar, souvenir of a tragic past, disfigures the otherwise charming face of Harry Potter, whose eyes are a vivid and enchanting green. His jet-black hair is stunningly handsome.

It was incredibly amusing to think of Harry's scar as being disfiguring, or his hair that stuck up all over to be "stunningly handsome". And Sirius had no doubts that the sick reporter, Rita Skeeter, had invented half of the things that were in that article. But the nail in the coffin had appeared on page six.

Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school.

"Since when has Harry been one of the top of his class?" Remus pondered with a laugh, as Sirius read the article aloud to him and Belle.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm cutting that article out," Belle sniggered, pulling out her wand and motioning to Sirius for the newspaper. "It's not every day our young man appears in the _Prophet, _after all."

"And you never know when one of Harry's future dates will need to hear about his—what was it? Oh, his 'tragic past'…" Sirius chuckled, handing the paper over to Belle.

Finally, the 22nd rolled around, and Sirius watched the clock anxiously as it blinked closer to one. He had asked as politely as he could to talk to Harry alone, as both Remus and Belle had wanted to listen into the conversation. So, Sirius was by himself in Belle's room, staring at the digital alarm clock on her bedside table.

When it was at last one, Sirius picked up a small handful of the floo powder, and tossed it into the crackling fire. Sirius took a deep breath, stuck his head inside, and muttered "Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts."

The first thing Sirius saw was flame. He coughed ashes out of this throat, and looking up, he could see the Gryffindor common room. Glancing around, he could see no one in the room, except…

Harry was sitting in the chair in front of the fireplace, panting slightly. He was holding what looked like a badge of some sort, and he look sincerely frustrated. Harry's eyes passed over the fire, and they grew wide when he spotted Sirius grinning at him.

"Sirius—how're you doing?" Harry asked, scrambling out of his chair to kneel before his godfather.

Harry looked older than he remembered him. His glasses were shining with the glare of the fire, but Sirius could see Lily's green eyes happily gleaming back at him.

"Never mind me, how are you?" Sirius asked him, looking him in the eyes.

"I'm—" Harry began. But he breathed deeply and launched into a huge story. "I didn't enter myself into the tournament, Sirius—and nobody will believe me. When I got back from the feast, all anyone wanted to hear was how I snuck past the age line, and tricked the goblet to pull out my name. But I didn't, Sirius.

"And then Rita Skeeter's article came out—I never said those things she wrote about me. She kept on asking me all these questions… and she lied about the answers. Now every Slytherin in Hogwarts is quoting it, and sneering at me in the halls, asking if I need a tissue to go cry about my mum…

"And Ron. He won't talk to me. He thinks I entered myself into the tournament, and that I only did it for the spotlight. He thinks I actually enjoy the attention. Hermione says it's because he's only jealous, but I can't stand it.

"And now Hagrid's just shown me what's coming in the first task, and it's dragons, Sirius," Harry sighed deeply, "and I'm a goner."

Sirius just stared at him, unsure of what to say. Harry had been through so much in the past few weeks.

"Dragons we can deal with, Harry, but we'll get to that in a minute—" Sirius braced himself. He was about to lie to Harry, but only because he had to avoid questions. "I haven't got long here… I've broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back any time. There are things I need to warn you about."

It was time to tell Harry about some of the things he had learned in Azkaban. He just hoped Harry could understand. But he was fourteen after all.

"What?"

"Karkaroff," Sirius replied. Karkaroff was the Durmstrang headmaster, and ever since Remus had mentioned that Durmstrang was competing in the tournament, he knew he would have to tell Harry this. "Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?"

"Yes—he—what?" Harry spluttered, trying to get this straight.

"He was caught, he was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I'd bet everything that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year—to keep an eye on him." Sirius held back a small chuckle at the thought of Moody and Karkaroff reuinited, "Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place."

"Karkaroff got released?" Harry asked slowly. "Why did they release him?"

_Good question, _Sirius thought irritably. "He had a deal with the Ministry of Magic. He said he'd seen the error of his ways, and then he named names… he put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place… He's not very popular in there, I can tell you. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his. So watch out for the Durmstrang champion as well."

"Okay," Harry said at a snail's pace. "But… are you saying Karkaroff put my name in the goblet? Because if he did, he's a really good actor. He seemed furious about it. He wanted to stop me from competing,"

"We know he's a good actor, because he convinced the Ministry of Magic to see him free didn't he?" Sirius said angrily, frustrated that Karkaroff actually did something wrong, and was set free, when Sirius was innocent and had to stay in there for twelve years.

He took a deep breath before continuing. He remembered the article Belle had mailed him while he was on the island, and decided to bring it up. "Now I've been keeping an eye on the _Daily Prophet, _Harry—"

"—you and the rest of the world." Harry interjected cynically.

Sirius smirked at him, "—and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts." Harry was about to speak, but Sirius quickly continued, "Yes, I know she said it was another false alarm, but I don't think so, somehow I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one's going to look into it too closely; Mad-Eye's heard intruders a little too often. But that doesn't mean he can't still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Minstry ever had." _And best the Order ever worked with…_

"So… what are you saying? Karkaroff's trying to kill me? But—why?"

_Come on, Harry, think. _"I've been hearing some very strange things. The Death Eaters seem to be a bit more active than usual lately. They showed themselves at the Quidditch World Cup, didn't they?" Sirius said, recalling another full-page article on the mess they caused. "Someone set off the Dark Mark… and then—did you hear about that Ministry of Magic witch who's gone missing?"

"Bertha Jorkins?"

Sirius nodded, "Exactly… she disappeared in Albania, and that's definitely where Voldemort was rumored to be last… and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn't she?"

"Yeah, but… it's not very likely she'd have walked straight into Voldemort, is it?" Harry reasoned.

"Listen, I knew Bertha Jorkins," Sirius said. Actually, he had dated her when he was in third year… He had been such a loser, _what was I thinking? _"She was at Hogwarts a few years above your dad and me. And she was an idiot. Very nosey, but no brains, none at all. It's not a good combination, Harry. I'd say she'd be very easy to lure into a trap."

"So… so Voldemort could have found out about the tournament? Is that what you mean? You think Karkaroff might be here on his orders?" Harry asked, his voice determined.

"I don't know. I just don't know…" Sirius said slowly. "Karkaroff doesn't strike me as the type who'd go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him," Sirius seethed, thinking of Peter. "But whoever put your name in that goblet did it for a reason, and I can't help thinking that the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident," he said bluntly.

"Looks like a really good plan from where I'm standing," Harry sighed. "They'll just have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff."

Sirius chuckled, "Right—these dragons." Sirius lowered his voice, "There's a way, Harry. Don't be tempted to try a Stunning Spell—dragons are strong and too powerfully magical to be knocked out be a single Stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon—"

"Yeah, I know, I just saw."

"But you can do it alone. There is a way, and a simple spell's all you need. Just--"

But Harry put up a hand, and he looked behind him.

"Wha-?"

"Go!" Harry whispered hastily, "_Go!_ There's someone coming!"

Confused, Sirius craned his neck to see what was going on, but Harry stood up, and tried to conceal the fire with his body. Sirius pulled his head out of the fire, coughing and dizzy and wondering who walked in on Harry and himself.


	6. Mrs Mopsey and Her Dogs

**A/N: **_HALF-BLOOD PRINCE COMES OUT ON JULY 16TH!! JULY 16! JULY 16! JULY 16! JULY 16! JULY 16! WHOOOOOO!_

**Chapter 6**

**Mrs. Mopsy and Her Dogs**

Sirius didn't get a chance to talk to Harry again before the First Task. But as soon as he and Belle saw the article about it, Belle grabbed her wand to cut out the article and Sirius snagged a quill to write Harry a letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_ Congratulations on getting past the Horntail. Whoever put your name in that goblet shouldn't be feeling too happy right now! I was going to suggest a Conjuctivitus Curse, as a dragon's eyes are its weakest point, but your way was better, I'm impressed._

_Don't get complacent, though, Harry. You've only done one task; whoever put you in for the tournament's got plenty more opportunity if they're trying to hurt you. Keep your eyes open—particularly when the person we discussed is around—and concentrate on keeping yourself out of trouble._

_Keep in touch; I still want to hear about anything unusual._

_Sirius_

Though it was more cautionary than congratulatory, he felt it was his duty to James to keep Harry under control. After all, with Christmas fast approaching, Harry would surely be feeling more restless if Christmas was the way it had been when Sirius was still at Hogwarts. After all, Harry had just survived a dragon—whatever was coming next in the tournament was surely not going to be any easier.

After the task was over, Sirius was considering what he said to Dumbledore about moving closer to Hogwarts more and more frequently. He hadn't told Belle or even Remus about it, yet. But the more he thought about it, the better of an idea it seemed to be. When Sirius finally received a letter back from the headmaster, it cemented the idea into Sirius's head. Dumbledore wrote that he thought it would be too risky to stay in the Shrieking Shack, because if Snape saw Harry sneaking to the Whomping Willow, he would immediately become suspicious. But he suggested a cave just outside of Hogsmeade, and told him it would be the perfect location. He also told him of a good rest stop somewhat close to Hogwarts, where Sirius could stay for a night or two before continuing to Hogsmeade.

Decidedly, Sirius wrote back to Dumbledore, telling him that he was on his way. Now he just had to tell Remus and Belle.

As they were sitting down to dinner, Sirius decided now was as good a time as any to let them know.

"So, Dumbledore wrote me back, Remus," Sirius said nonchalantly, as he reached over the table to get the salad bowl.

"What did he say?" Belle asked suspiciously. It was almost like she could read his mind sometimes.

"Nothing out of the ordinary…"

"No, really, what did he say?" she repeated. "Is Harry all right?"

"No, no, Harry's fine," Sirius said, looking at his plate. "He just… well, I've been doing some thinking. Harry's all alone at Hogwarts and—"

"He's not alone, Sirius. Ron and Hermione are there with him. And Moody and Dumbledore," Remus interrupted politely.

"But—he doesn't—I want to be there. I'm tired of writing to him… I want to be there for him," Sirius said rather pathetically.

"But Sirius," Remus said softly, "that's just not possible. You're an escaped convict, remember."

"I _know_ that—"

"—And you can't just _leave_. You'd have nowhere to go…"

"You're not listening—"

"Sirius, you're not being reasonable, here."

"I'm being _perfectly_ reasonable!" Sirius said angrily, his temper starting to flare. "If you'd just listen…"

"We are listening, Sirius," Belle said quietly, not looking at him.

Sirius took a deep breath. "Well, all right, then." He looked around the table. Remus was gazing at him calmly. "Dumbledore suggested I move into a cave outside of Hogsmeade. Then Harry can visit me on weekends, and I don't have to worry about getting too close to Hogwarts. He even told me of a house where I can stay for a night, if I need to. He told me the cave was big enough for Buckbeak, and that he could keep in contact with me at all times about Harry and the happenings at Hogwarts. I think it's a good idea, and I'm going," he said breathlessly, like a teenager trying to get his parents to let him go to the late movie with his friends.

"If you think it's best, then go," Remus said.

"But you're safer here," Belle said, glancing up at him. "I don't want you to go—what if you get caught?"

"I can't stay here forever, Belle. I've got to leave this house sometime," Sirius said gently, stabbing his fork into his salad, and taking a bite. "After all, I'll be of more use there."

"When will you be leaving?" Belle asked him.

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus. "After dinner. I want to have the cover of darkness, you know."

"Right," she muttered, rising from the table, and dropping her fork on her plate with a clang. She picked up her plate and dumped it off in the sink, causing it to clatter.

"Where are you going?" Remus asked her as she started to leave the room.

"I'm not as hungry as I thought I was."

Sirius closed his eyes. He heard Belle walking briskly up the stairs to her bedroom, and he slammed his fork down on the table, making the glasses and plates jump.

"You should go talk to her," Remus said, shifting in his chair.

"What difference would it make?" Sirius answered grumpily.

"Sirius, don't be thick, you love each other."

"Then she should understand that I need to do this. For Harry," he complained, grabbing his fork again and assaulting the lettuce on his plate, frustrated. It crunched satisfyingly in the tense silence between Sirius and Remus.

"Just go talk to her, Padfoot…" Remus insisted, reaching for his goblet of Wolfsbane potion.

"I'm leaving," Sirius said, standing abruptly from the table.

"What?" The goblet's travel to Remus's lips was interrupted.

"I'm leaving," he repeated. "Dinner is obviously over, so I'm leaving."

"You're not leaving." Remus put the goblet back on the table with a forceful thump.

"Oh yes I am," Sirius said passionately, ripping open a drawer, and pulling out a brown paper bag. He made his way to the refrigerator and started to load the bag with food. "If you all can't be supportive of my decision to be near my godson, then I'm leaving."

"We aren't not being supportive, Sirius," Remus argued, rising from the table. "I just think you're hurrying into this a little—"

"What do you know about it?!" Sirius shouted. "I'm going, all right?"

"Sirius—"

"I'm going to Hogsmeade to be closer to Harry. That's final."

"You just want to get out of the house; this has nothing to do with Harry."

"Yes it does! It has everything to do with him, Remus! Just give it a rest, would you!" Sirius yelled, throwing his hands in the air.

Remus silenced. The crackle of Sirius paper bag now sounded ominous and caused a shiver to rise up Sirius's spine.

"I know why you're doing this," Remus said quietly. "Why you're getting so worked up—trying to start a fight with me."

"Oh, _do_ you? Then pray tell us, Moony, since you do know all…"

Sounding only slightly perturbed, Remus said, "It's because you don't want to leave—you'll feel less guilty about leaving if you felt like we were mad at each other. Isn't that right?"

Sirius paused. "That's the most…_ridiculous_ thing—I've never even… _ridiculous_." He rolled up the top of his paper bag, and made for the backdoor.

"I'll tell Belle you said goodbye. And that you love her," Remus said as Sirius yanked open the backdoor so hard that it smacked against the wall.

"Yeah," Sirius grunted, pulling the door closed with a slam.

The cool night air was refreshing on his face. The lights from the kitchen were filtering out the windows, and the curtains made lacey shadows on the lawn. Sirius walked briskly over to the trees by the back fence, and whispered Buckbeak's name. The creature squawked in reply.

"We're getting out of here, pal," Sirius whispered to him, shoving the paper bag deep into his cloak pocket. "We'll be closer to Hagrid—remember Hagrid?"

Buckbeak squawked again.

Sirius clambered onto the creature's back, and got comfortable. It was a long flight to the rest stop Dumbledore had told him about, and it would probably take him most of the night. Sirius steered Buckbeak out into the middle of the yard, Buckbeak's hooves swishing in the cool grass. Sirius looked up into the sky, at the billions of stars and felt instantly humbled.

Of course he felt badly about leaving this way—but he had to get out of that house. He had been there—how long? _It doesn't matter… too long. _Scanning the skyline, his eyes fell back on Belle's house, specifically Belle's bedroom window. He blew a solemn kiss up at her window, and prayed that somehow she would know just how much he loved her.

"Let's go, Beaky," Sirius whispered to the hippogriff, and Buckbeak took off into the air, his mighty wings flapping frantically at the air. They were rising fast, and as they passed Belle's window, he saw through the glossy windowpane that Belle was sitting in the window-seat watching him go.

The cool night air was refreshing on his face, and was so welcome after being cooped up inside for so long. Though Sirius didn't want to think about the last twenty minutes in Belle's house, they just kept replaying in his mind.

He felt ashamed, and pretty stupid. Remus was right—Remus was always right. He had known that Sirius felt guilty about leaving, he had known that Sirius was being foolish. But Sirius was still convinced that he was doing the right thing.

It didn't take long for Sirius to find the rest house that Dumbledore had suggested. What took the longest was finding a safe place for Sirius to park the hippogriff for the rest of the night and for most of the day.

Finally, though, he landed Buckbeak in a small forest behind the house. Sirius used Buckbeak's rope to tie him up to a tree. Buckbeak screeched a bit, and Sirius stroked his feathers.

"You gotta be quiet, Buckbeak," Sirius whispered, as he reached into his pocket to pull out Dumbledore's letter. The instructions couldn't be clearer:

_Once you arrive at Mrs. Mopsy's house, transform into a dog and stay that way. Don't transform back into a man until you are far away from her house. She'll take you in—but not if she knows you're human, especially if she thinks you're the man who escaped from Azkaban last year._

Buckbeak nudged Sirius in the shoulder as if to say, "go on, I'll be fine here."

Sirius nodded, more to himself than to the hippogriff, slipped Dumbledore's letter back into his pocket, and transformed into a dog with a loud pop.

He lumbered through the forest, heading towards Mopsy's house, wondering who Mopsy was and why Dumbledore was so sure that she'd let him stay as long as he was a dog. His great bear-like feet crunched on the leaves, and the almost full moon's light splashed down through the trees, brightening Sirius's way.

He could hear Mrs. Mopsy's house before he could actually see it. From yards away, the howling sounds of dogs reached up through the trees, and made Sirius himself want to yell out to greet them. When he got to the quaint little cottage, he moseyed forward casually, his nails scratching along the leaves. Yellow light poured out of the glass windows, and landed on a few large dogs that were sleeping in its glow.

Not wanting to awake these dogs, though they didn't even come close to matching Sirius's size, Sirius tromped around to the front side of the house. From inside the house, he could hear what sounded like a woman scolding someone. Sirius jumped up the front steps, and sat on the welcome mat. Lifting a paw, he started to scratch at the door, wondering vaguely if she would hear him over the dog's commotion. He gave a little moan.

He heard a muffled telephone ringing, and Sirius sat back on his haunches. He heard the woman, presumably Mrs. Mopsy, screech into the phone. Frustrated, Sirius glanced over his shoulder, transformed into a man just long enough to ring the doorbell, and then popped back into a dog and sat back down on the welcome mat.

"Good night!" Mopsy yelled into the phone receiver, and Sirius heard her smack it down into its cradle. "I'll be right with you," she yelled towards the door.

Sirius assumed his cutest puppy face, and sat at the ready. At long last, Mrs. Mopsy opened her door, letting artificial light flood onto her porch.

"Oh, you're darling!" she cooed, bending down as far as her knees would allow so she could pet Sirius on the head. She was rather tall, and very skinny. She was dressed in an odd bathrobe that had embroidered dogs running around the hem. Her hair was long and silver, and she had it braided and tossed over her shoulder. Sirius let out a bark.

"You must be hungry, darling, come on, into the kitchen…" Mopsy beckoned, and Sirius waddled in her wake into the house. Everything inside was practically trashed, and the house reeked of sour dog breath. She led him through the entryway that led directly into the kitchen. The kitchen was hot and had a wafting aroma of leftover dog food. Rough, and agitated barks sounded from the living room. The floor was littered with an odd assortment of bowls, some filled with half-eaten dog food, others with water. Sirius's nails clicked on the floor tiles, as Mrs. Mopsy stood on her tiptoes to reach into a cupboard. Falling back on her heels, she brought down two glass bowls.

"I swear, Jane," came a man's voice from the living room. "If you can't shut these dogs up—"

"You'll what, Henry?" Mrs. Mopsy growled, sounding very dog-like herself. But her husband didn't answer, and Mrs. Mopsy happily brought one of the bowls over to the sink and turned it on. Clean water splashed out of the tap and landed sloppily into the bowl. "Here you are, sweetums," she cooed to Sirius. "Drink up."

Sirius did and gratefully. He could feel the cool liquid gliding down his throat as he lapped it up with his pink tongue. Mrs. Mopsy lowered the second bowl, full of dog food, next to Sirius's other bowl.

As soon as the bowl clanked onto the floor, two or three other dogs rushed into the kitchen to move in on Sirius's food. Both weren't very big dogs, and once they spotted Sirius, they hesitated. But Sirius, on the other hand, was hesitating over eating the wet, chunky dish that Mopsy had offered.

One of the dogs yapped at him, and Sirius turned to glare. _Don't you rush me… I'll give it to you if I don't want it, when I'm good and ready. _He gave a small growl in the back of his throat to make his point known.

The dogs suddenly became uncomfortable, and skittered out of the kitchen. Sirius shrugged happily.

"Now, now, play nicely," Mopsy scolded him.

"Jane!"

"What is it, Henry?" Mopsy shouted to her husband testily.

"Get this dog off me!" he cried out.

"He just wants to play with you, Henry," Mopsy chuckled. "Honestly," She rolled her eyes to Sirius, as though they were sharing a laugh at her husband's expense. She left Sirius alone in the kitchen to eat, and went to assist Mr. Mopsy.

After dinner, if you could call it that, Sirius decided to curl up someplace in the house to sleep. He decided that he would leave as soon as the sun rose the next day, so he wanted to get his rest.

Sirius combed the house for a spot to rest that wasn't already taken by some hound with his teeth bared at Sirius. Mrs. Mopsy and her husband got up to go to bed, and turned out all the lights, causing some of the dogs to howl with loneliness. Mrs. Mopsy attempted to kiss each dog goodnight, but Sirius hung far enough back that she didn't get to him. Sirius suddenly doubted that Mrs. Mopsy even kissed her husband goodnight.

Sirius followed the Mopsys down the hallway to their bedroom, hoping to find a spare bedroom, or something, where he could sleep without hearing dogs grunting in their dreams. But, there was no such luck, so he settled in the hallway just outside the Mopsys' bathroom.

It took him a moment to get situated, but finally curled up into a ball, his tail gently tickling his nose. Breathing deeply, and giving a small whimper, he closed his eyes.

_He sat against the grimy stone wall of his cell, his neck extended back, his head resting on the wall. He was cold. Very cold. And tired of being here—tired of this place. Tired of the dread that he witnessed everyday. Tired of people crying out in their sleep, tired of thinking about Peter. Sick and tired of this cell, sick and tired of its smell, its dementors, its everything. _

_He heard the boy screaming before he was close enough to see him. Shouting, crying, howling. His voice reverberated off the stone, ringing and echoing all down the rows of cells. Only mildly curious, Sirius rose from his place on the ground to see who was coming._

_"Please, no, you've got to understand…" the boy cried. Peering down the aisle, Sirius could see the Ministry wizards escorting four people down towards Sirius's cell. _

_"Is the wittle baby afwaid?" came a sour, mocking voice that Sirius recognized instantly. Bellatrix. _

_She was walking past the Azkaban cellmates like a queen strolling grandly past her subjects in a Sunday morning parade. She walked with a daunting grace, a proud look in her heavily lidded eyes, a self-satisfied smile playing with the corners of her mouth. Her curtain of dark, shining hair hung around her face. Her skin was pale, her eyes as black as her soul. _

_A Ministry wizard was holding her tentatively by one arm, though she was not struggling. She flipped back her hair, the torchlight catching it, making it shimmer. She glanced over her shoulder to her husband and brother-in-law, both looked terrified. She was above them, and it was obvious that she knew it._

_"No… The Dark Lord made me… please let me go…" the boy in front of her whimpered again. He was not related to Bellatrix. He was blonde, skinny, alone, and his Azkaban robes clutched loosely his skimpy frame as he twisted and struggled._

_"Would you shut up?" she scoffed finally, dropping the baby voice. "You are an embarrassment. You should be proud of what you've accomplished for our Lord." But by this time, they were passing Sirius's cell. Bellatrix immediately stopped. Confused, the Ministry wizard did as well. "Sirius…" she sounded mildly surprised to see him._

_"Bellatrix," Sirius acknowledged her._

_"Haven't seen you in years, dear cousin. Obviously, you're not fairing well," she sneered._

_"I could say the same about you," he said with distain, eyeing her prison garments. They fit her like a royal ball gown._

_"If only your mother could see you now. Her least favorite son, in Azkaban for life for betraying the legendary Potters, and killing 12 muggles and Pettigrew. My, she would be proud," Bellatrix said, her eyes flashing._

_"I didn't betray them," Sirius said through his teeth, "I never would betray them."_

_"Stiw faithfull, Siwius?" Bellatrix asked, her mocking baby voice making Sirius's flesh crawl._

_The Ministry wizard tugged on Bellatrix's arm._

_"One moment," she said to him with a glance. He looked around nervously. "Well, cousin, I suppose we'll meet again—we're both here for life, after all." She said it with pride dripping from every syllable. She permitted the wizard to lead her away from Sirius's cell._

_"What did you do?"_

_"Tortured the Longbottoms into insanity," She said, looking over her shoulder at him. "It was great fun."_

Sirius jerked awake. For a moment, he had thought he was still in Azkaban. He was breathing too fast and he felt sick. He fought the temptation to vomit all over Mrs. Mopsy's brown carpeting.

That was the last time he had seen Bellatrix. Roughly twelve years ago… _Or was it eleven?_ Sirius couldn't remember, nor did he care. Just seeing her face again, even in a dream, made his stomach writhe with anger. She was a Death Eater, through and through… sentenced to stay in Azkaban forever, which was where she belonged.

Of course, she had been his mother's favorite niece. _"So lovely… you'll amount to so much." _Sirius laughed at the irony. If only his mother was still alive to see Bellatrix. Azkaban had surely taken all of her beauty, and she was part of Voldemort's ranks. Sirius found it disgusting.

But then, that's why he had run away all those years ago—to get away from people like Bellatrix and his mother.

Sirius lifted his big, black, head and looked around. Light was streaming into the house now, and he could hear dogs barking at each other again. Surprised that he had slept through this racket, Sirius pulled himself to his feet and plodded off towards the kitchen, hoping to be fed one last time before taking off.

Glancing up at the clock, he saw to his horror that it was just past midday. He had slept nearly the whole day. Looking around the trashed kitchen, Sirius decided that he had no need to say goodbye. He simply took off out of one of the many dog doors, and headed back into the forest of trees.


	7. Moving to the Cave

**A/n: **_Merry Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/whatever to you all! I thought I'd take a little break from my holiday homework to post chapter 7. I hope you're all liking this one so far. I'm in the middle of writing the next Prisonerstory,Order of the Phoenix, and I really like it so far... maybe even better than this one. But I probably shouldn't tell you that._

_Oh, and to answer a question from one of my reviewers: I'm sorry if I didn't make it clearer (I explained better in "Prisoner of Azkaban") but Belle is not a Squib nor is she an ugly old lady. She's taking the Polyjuice Potion so as to keep a low profile to protect Harry as his Secret Keeper. She poses as a Squib to enforce this protection within the Wizarding World. (Actually, I added the posing as a Squib part after reading Order of the Phoenix, but all the same.) Hope that answers your question. So don't worry, Sirius isn'tmarrying Harry's old, batty neighbor, I promise. I would never do that to him!

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**Chapter 7**

**Moving to the Cave**

The cave Dumbledore had indicated wasn't big, but it wasn't small either. In fact, it could just comfortably fit Sirius and Buckbeak inside. It was high on a mountainside facing away from the wizard village of Hogsmeade. Its mouth was at an odd angle, so when Sirius was seated, he couldn't see the surrounding snow-capped mountains or the tall fir trees that covered them. Sunlight only reached into the cave halfway, the rest was plunged into shadows. Icy cool winds blew into the cave at night, making Sirius shiver, and he had to build a fire towards the cave's mouth to keep warm as the December snow began to fall.

Buckbeak didn't like living in the cave too much, though he found the rats rather amusing to play with. Sirius didn't find the rats amusing in the slightest. And they didn't taste very good, either.

Sirius informed Dumbledore that he had arrived and was safe the very second that he had arrived, and Dumbledore wrote back the next morning saying that he would soon come to visit, as he had something very important to tell Sirius. Sirius used his last piece of parchment to ask Dumbledore to bring more parchment.

"Sirius?"

It was Dumbledore. Sirius could hear him struggling towards the mouth of the cave.

"All right, Buckbeak, be on your best behavior," Sirius said to the hippogriff quietly. "You want him to think you're civilized, don't you?"

Buckbeack cocked his head in confusion.

"Yeah, I'd thought so," Sirius confirmed, turning around to welcome the headmaster into his humble abode.

Ablus Dumbledore was the wizard that Sirius admired the most in the world, next to James. He was brilliant and wise, and always had that mystifying twinkle in his concise eyes. Dumbledore stood proudly, framed in the chink of light that was the entrance to the cave. Dumbledore said nothing, did nothing. His eyes were resting upon the hippogriff. Finally, he took a slow step forward and bowed low, his silver beard brushing the ground. Buckbeak bowed back instantly, closing his bright, amber eyes in respect. Only once Buckbeak had risen again to full height, did Dumbledore turn to Sirius.

"How are you?" Dumbledore asked seriously. Sirius didn't answer right away, but his stomach gurgled his response for him. "I thought you would be," Dumbledore said in reply. He reached into his deep robe pocket and withdrew a large package. "Non-spoilable food straight from the kitchens," he smiled as he passed an eager Sirius the package. "And your requested parchment."

But Sirius didn't even look at the scroll of parchment Dumbledore was holding out patiently. Sirius's hands were busy untying the first package.

"Thank you, Dumbledore…" Sirius breathed enthusiastically, as food tumbled out of the freshly unwrapped packaging. Without another word, Sirius snatched some of the food and began to tear at it with his teeth. But after a few hungry swallows, Sirius remembered his manners. "What was it that you needed to tell me?"

"Well," Dumbledore began. "It's about Harry."

"He's all right, isn't he?" Sirius started. He took half of the food portions, and threw them to Buckbeak, who began to eat.

"He's fine. For now." Dumbledore spoke quietly, moving to a short boulder across the cave from where Sirius was seated. Dumbledore sat down, observing the hippogriff, who was clacking his beak and gnawing on the food.

"What do you mean, 'for now'?" Sirius asked flatly. He chucked another quarter of the food to the hippogriff. Sirius had suddenly lost his appetite.

"It's something that I should have told you all about long, long ago," Dumbledore said solemnly. "I should have told Lily and James…"

"Dumbledore, what…?"

"There was a prophecy made about Harry about a year before he was born," Dumbledore said quickly. There was an uncomfortable silence.

"A… _what? _About what?! And you didn't tell Lily and James?!" Sirius cried out. He leapt to his feet. He was so confused. _A prophecy?_

"I went to interview Sybill Trelawney for the Divination position at the Hogshead. She wasn't at all impressive, and I turned to leave when she went into a trance. She foresaw the one who could defeat Voldemort being born in the end of July to those who had thrice defied him."

"Okay, but that could have been any number of people…"

"She also said that Voldemort would mark the baby as his equal," Dumbledore continued, looking at Sirius intently.

"Harry's scar."

"Precisely," Dumbledore sighed.

Sirius's brain was reeling, "but why does this apply to Harry now? The prophecy's already been carried out. Harry's defeated Voldemort—"

"There's more," Dumbledore interrupted. _More? _"Harry has some power that Voldemort doesn't know about." Dumbledore's mouth was formed into a small frown, his face heavy. His fingers were interlocked, resting in the folds of his robe.

"He does? What sort of power? Do you know what it is?" Sirius asked, still scrambling to understand all this.

"The power that Voldemort doesn't know about is how strong Lily's love for Harry is. The fact that she died to save him is a powerful protection. As long as Harry stays with his aunt and uncle, that power can't be broken. Harry will always have that with him."

Sirius felt a bubble of relief swelling within him. Harry was always going to have protection from Voldemort, because of Lily. At least Lily hadn't died for nothing.

"But there's one more part to the prophecy. The most important part."

The bubble popped painfully.

"And what's that?"

"'Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live wile the other survives'," Dumbledore recited quietly.

"Dumbledore, how… 'Either must die…' what does that even _mean?"_ Sirius spluttered angrily.

"It means that in the end, either Harry or Voldemort will kill the other, determining the fate or future for the rest of the world," Dumbledore said gravely. "The prophecy hasn't been fulfilled. It hasn't even begun."

Sirius was quiet for a moment. He exhaled a small breath that sounded more like he had just been punched in the stomach. None of this made sense. Harry was doomed, no matter what.

"But that can't be… Harry would have to face Voldemort alone… and murder him…"

"That's right," Dumbledore nodded.

"But at least Harry's got time to prepare, hasn't he?"

"Voldemort is slowly rising, Sirius. Deep down, we all know that."

Sirius closed his eyes. His best friends' son was going to be the one to stop Voldemort—again. Sirius suddenly wished that they were here, hearing this instead of him.

"Have you told him?"

"Who?"

"My Uncle Alphard—no, _Harry,"_ Sirius said sarcastically.

"No… no, not yet," Dumbledore said, closing his eyes, as if he knew that Sirius was trying his hardest to control an angry explosion that was sure to erupt at any moment.

"You—haven't—told Harry?" Sirius said through clenched teeth.

"He's too young."

"He's fourteen! He's plenty old enough!" Sirius shouted. But a second later, he took a step back to recollect himself. He had just shouted at Headmaster Dumbledore.

"I know, I know…"

"Dumbledore, listen." Sirius began pleadingly, "Harry's special. We've known that for a long time now—but if we expect him to live up to these crazy standards—like killing Voldemort for good—I think it's only fair that we tell him about it."

"I realize that, Sirius," Dumbledore said in an alarmingly calm voice. "I've realized that for fourteen years."

"But you said yourself—Voldemort's coming back. We don't have time to—"

"I _know,_ Sirius," Dumbledore said, a bit of irritation in his voice, now. "We have to take this slow, if we want Harry to accept it. That is why I forbid you from telling him or anyone else about any of this."

Sirius stared. "Fine," he grumbled. "I won't say anything. I'll leave that to you, shall I?"

"I just thought _you _needed to know." Dumbledore rose from the bolder, and stood up tall, the tip of his hat nearly touching the ceiling of the cave.

"You're leaving? You just came to tell me that and leave?"

"I had to tell you so you would be ready when the time came, either to be there when I tell Harry, or to support Harry when he does what needs to be done. I'll keep in touch," Dumbledore promised, as he walked steadily out of the mouth of the cave. He paused for a moment, as though considering going back inside. Strangely, he pulled a long, thin wand out of his pocket, whirled around, and swooped the wand over the cave entrance in a graceful arc, his lips muttering something. The cave's entrance glowed a deep purple for a moment and then dimly returned to stone. Without a word of explanation, Dumbledore faced his back to Sirius and disappeared down the mountainside.

Sirius raised his eyebrows in confusion for a moment. Dumbledore must have done some charm to protect his cave from passersby. But who would climb all the way up here?

Sirius sighed heavily. The whole meeting with Dumbledore had lasted less than an hour, and he still had hundreds of questions. But his mind lingered on only one thing-- how could Harry ever be ready to risk his life to murder Voldemort?


	8. Meeting With the Trio

**A/N:** Hey everyone! Glad to hear that you're all enjoying the story so far! I really like this chapter… not sure why. Anyway, I hope you all like it to. You know the drill: Read and Review!!

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**Chapter 8**

**Meeting With the Trio**

Sirius spent the next few days alone in the cave. Well, except for Buckbeak, but Sirius wasn't exactly on speaking terms with the hippogriff ever since Buckbeak ate _all _of the food Dumbledore had brought.

But one day, Sirius had quite a surprising guest.

Sirius was sleeping soundly, though the sun was high in the sky and it was long past noon. Sunlight was falling gently into the cave, leaving a ring of light in the cave's entrance.

Sirius suddenly felt someone prodding him in the back, and he jolted awake. He turned onto his side, and saw Remus Lupin staring at him anxiously.

"Moony… what—"

"I need your help, Sirius," he said quickly. His eyes were drooping heavily, and his face looked tired and worn. His hair was mussed and he had the distinct look of one who had been awake all night. Then Sirius remembered: last night was the full moon.

"What's the matter? How did you find me?" Sirius asked, pushing himself into a seated position. He looked at his friend carefully.

"Dumbledore told me where to find you…"

"What's wrong, Moony? You look sick…"

"There was… I can't stay at Belle's any longer," Remus said unclearly.

"Why not? What's happened?"

"The night you left—at the beginning of this week…" Remus began softly. It seemed hard to believe that Sirius had only been gone a week, but thinking back, it was true.

"What is it, Remus?" Sirius insisted, "You can tell me…"

"No, it's just—the night you left, I… I didn't drink my potion, so last night, when I transformed…" Remus seemed beside himself. He put his head in his hands.

"You didn't drink your potion?" His potion was what allowed him to keep his head during transformations, so if he didn't drink it…

"I broke out of Belle's office and… and I…"

"Is Belle all right?" Sirius said urgently. He was leaning far forward; he could see every premature wrinkle on Remus's exaghusted face.

"She's… fine. But I can't stay there. It was too close… much too close…" Remus breathed. "I broke out, Sirius… I ran at her and I almost bit her. She only just got away…"

"Remus, it was an accident," Sirius said quietly. "You didn't mean for it to happen."

"That's what Belle said too," Remus murmured.

"You see? Belle doesn't want you to leave, Remus. Everything's fine—it was an accident," Sirius repeated. Remus shook his head.

"What if it happens again? I couldn't live with myself. There have been too many accidents over the years to—"

"Does she know you're here?" Sirius interrupted.

"No."

Sirius looked at him intently. He looked like a wreck; his traveling coat was falling off his shoulders, and his clothes were tattered as ever. Sirius felt a wave of empathy and asked, "Is there anything I can do, Remus? I mean, you'd be welcome to camp out here with me—but it's drafty at night, and Buckbeak eats all the food…"

"Sounds tempting," Remus smiled slightly. "But there is something you could do—but I don't want you to think of it as a handout…"

"You want money, then? Finally—I was wondering when you'd come to your senses!" Sirius cried. "I _want _you to buy your house back—how much do you need?"

"It's just a loan, Sirius. I intend to pay you back in full—with interest."

"And you'll be eternally in my service, right? Come to my aid whenever I call?" Sirius joked.

"I'll always be here for you; you know that," Remus said seriously.

"I know," Sirius said, clapping Remus on the shoulder. "And the same goes for you. So I'll chip in however much you want—but I know Belle likes your company; maybe too much for my own good," he chuckled.

"I don't care. I want her to be safe," Remus said darkly.

Sirius nodded deeply, and went to the corner where he kept his parchment and quill. He quickly scrawled 711 on it and handed it to Remus. "Here's my vault number. And tell Dolores Umbrige and her Ministry to shove it up their asses."

"I will," Remus laughed softly. "And thank you, Sirius. I owe you one."

"Think nothing of it, old chum," Sirius replied, clapping Remus on the shoulder again. But Sirius paused for a moment. "But listen," he said finally, "could you do me one little favor?"

"Anything…"

"When you go to my vault? Could you, well," Sirius cleared his throat embarrassedly, "could you make a stop at a jewelry store? Get Belle an engagement ring?" Remus looked at him with a small smile. Sirius pressed on. "The bigger the better—money's no object, here, Moony. Only the best for her, got it?"

"I understand—you want me to send it here?" asked Remus, trying to stop himself from laughing at Sirius's face, which was slowly becoming more and more red.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure…" Sirius nodded.

Remus rose from the cave floor. "Well, I suppose I had better get to Diagon Alley. Especially if—"

"You'd better," Sirius cut him off.

Remus looked hesitant for a moment, then he walked forward and embraced Sirius like a brother. Sirius didn't want to say goodbye again. "You have no idea how much this loan means to me," Remus said into his ear. "Thank you."

"Get outta here—go get your house back." Sirius said with a weak smile.

Remus nodded again, and said, "I'll pay you back, I promise. If it's the last thing I do."

"Yeah, yeah—I know. Get outta here. And remember, only the best for her." Sirius waved him away, and Remus gave a small smile and started out of the cave and down the rocky path to Hogsmeade.

Over the next few months, Sirius kept in contact with Remus and Belle. Remus had gotten his house back, and had moved in immediately. He promised Sirius that he was working on getting another job to pay Sirius back. Belle was still slightly peeved with Sirius for taking off the way he had, but once she had received her engagement ring—which was more beautiful than Sirius could have hoped for—she forgave him. Diamonds were always the best way to coax a girl into forgiveness.

For Christmas, Sirius had Remus send Harry an heirloom knife that could open any door. It had been in Sirius's as a kid, and it had helped him to quite a bit of mischief. Hopefully, Harry would find it just as useful.

Meanwhile, Sirius took up the hobby of scavenging for rather depressing newspapers out of Hogsmeade trash bins, so that he could keep up to date on all the Death Eater activity, and, of course, the Triwizard Tournament.

In February, Harry competed in the second challenge—a daring under-water journey to the center of the Hogwarts Lake to rescue Ron Weasley from the merpeople. Sirius thought that it sounded like a load of fun, but still had a gnawing suspicion that something bad was going to happen in the third and final task, to take place in June.

Sirius sent Harry and his friends a note, inviting them to visit the cave. There was quite a lot he wanted to warn Harry about—though he knew it would be difficult not to mention seeing Dumbledore or hearing about the prophecy.

A day or two later, Belle sent Sirius her favorite Witch Weekly magazine. Sirius was confused to see it included in her package, until he saw who was on the front cover. It was Harry. The article was by Rita Skeeter again, and titled, "Harry Potter's Secret Heartache." It explained in gruesome detail about Harry and Hermione's passionate relationship, and presented some embarrassing insight to Hermione's other love conquest, famous Quidditch seeker Viktor Krum. Some girl from Hogwarts also mentioned that she wouldn't be surprised if Hermione was cooking up love potions.

Sirius paid this no mind, but wondered what on earth Harry and Hermione had done to piss off Rita Skeeter to get their names slandered so badly.

Sirius sat in his dog form excitedly in front of a cottage on the far outskirts of Hogsmeade, craning his head down the twisting and winding lane, looking for Harry and his friends. He had been waiting all morning; not knowing what time Harry's Hogsmeade trips began. Sirius was carrying a few old newspapers in his mouth, his sharp teeth indenting the crinkled and dirty pages.

Finally, coming around the bend in the road, Sirius could see Harry, Ron, and Hermione walking side by side. His tail began to wag happily, and Harry smiled when he caught sight of his godfather.

"Hello, Sirius," Harry said quietly when he had reached Sirius's side. He gave Sirius a small scratch on the head, but Sirius was preoccupied smelling Harry's school bag. _Chicken._

Sirius gave a little bark, and started down the road, his tail swishing back and forth behind him. Harry and his friends followed Sirius to the base of the mountain, and then Sirius gave one glance behind and then started the upward climb. He could hear Harry panting slightly behind him, as the three friends scrambled around boulders and over the crumbling rocks.

Sirius went around a big boulder, and trotted into the cave. He transformed, and quickly made a futile attempt to hide the rat remains he had eaten for breakfast. Just as he skirted them beneath a pile of old papers, Harry and his friends entered. They bowed to the hippogriff, and Hermione went to pet it.

"Chicken!" Sirius cried, as he threw down the _Prophets _he had collected from Hogsmeade. Harry opened his bag carefully, and handed a Hogwarts napkin stuffed with chicken and bread. "Thanks. I've been living off rats mostly," he admitted. "Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself." He stuck his teeth into the chicken leg and let the warm juice dribble down his chin while he ripped and tore at the meat. He wiped his face and grinned at Harry. It was so nice to see him again.

"What're you doing here, Sirius?" Harry asked him hesitantly.

Sirius looked at him for a moment before answering, "Fulfilling my duty as godfather." But Harry, however, still looked apprehensive. "Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray."

Harry didn't answer. He was looking rather stressed. "I want to be on the spot," Sirius said finally. "Your last letter… well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been reading the paper, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried." He replied, motioning to the newspapers on the cave floor.

"But what if they catch you?" Harry asked him. "What if you're seen?"

Sirius considered, "You three and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus." He took another tear from the chicken leg.

There was an uncomfortable silence, as though Harry would rather like to say something else, but didn't. Instead, Harry reached for one of the yellowing _Prophets_ and said, "They're making it sound like he's dying. But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here…"

Confused, Sirius glanced at the headline, which read _"Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch."_ Sirius gave a small derisive sniff. Sirius wasn't exactly buddies with Crouch, as he was the most power-mad man Sirius had ever seen working in the Ministry. In fact, Crouch was one of the people Sirius hated most in this cold world.

"My brother's Crouch's personal assistant," Ron piped. "He says Crouch is suffering from overwork."

"Mind you, he _did_ look ill, last time I saw him up close," Harry said, still scanning the article. "The night my name came out of the goblet…"

Sirius chucked Buckbeak the remaining bone from his chicken leg. The hippogriff crunched upon it, satisfied.

"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" Hermione replied testily. "I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now she's not there to look after him."

"Hermione's obsessed with house-elfs," Ron whispered to Sirius.

Sirius looked up at Hermione. "Crouch sacked his house-elf?"

"Yeah, at the Quidditch World Cup," Harry said. "Winky was saving Crouch a seat up in the top box, where we were. Crouch never showed up, but then, when the Death Eater activity started, Mr. Weasley told us to wait for him in the forest nearby. I couldn't find my wand, but that's when the Dark Mark appeared in the sky. The Ministry wizards showed up and froze everyone in the area—Winky was found holding my wand."

Sirius got up from his place on the cave floor and began to pace back and forth.

Harry watched Sirius pace as he said, "All the wizards there thought that Winky had caused the Mark, since the curse came out of my wand. Crouch got really angry and said he was going to give her clothes."

"Let me get this straight," Sirius said, bending down to pull out a new chicken leg. "You first saw the elf in the top box. She was saving a seat for Crouch, right?"

"Right," all three friends said simultaneously.

"But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?" Sirius asked, confused why anyone would pay all that money and then not see the game.

"No, I think he said he'd been too busy," said Harry.

Sirius thought hard for a moment, and began to unconsciously pace again. Hermione and Ron were watching him carefully.

"Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the top box?"

"Erm… no. I didn't need to use it before we got in the forest," Harry answered. "And then I put my hand in my pocket and all that was in there were my Ominoculars." He looked at Sirius for a moment. "Are you saying that whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the top box?"

Sirius looked at him darkly and said, "It's possible."

"Winky didn't steal that wand!" Hermione cried.

"The elf wasn't the only one in the top box," Sirius insisted. "Who else was sitting behind you?"

"Loads of people," Harry said, watching his godfather's journey across the cave and back. "Some Bulgarian ministers… Cornelius Fudge… The Malfoys…"

"The Malfoys!" Ron said with such hatred that his voice echoed around the cave for a moment. "I bet it was Lucius Malfoy!"

However much Sirius despised Lucius, he wasn't convinced. "Anyone else?"

"No one."

"Yes, there was," Hermione said quickly. "There was Ludo Bagman."

"Oh yeah…" Harry mused.

Sirius frowned. "I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps. What's he like?"

"He's okay," Harry shrugged. "He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament."

"Does he now?" Sirius stopped his pacing momentarily to look at Harry. He ran his tongue around his dry lips and said to himself, "I wonder why he'd do that?"

"Says he's taken a liking to me," Harry shrugged again.

"Hmm…" Sirius nodded, biting his lip.

Hermione's eyes brightened as she realized, "We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared, remember?"

"Yeah," Ron continued, "but he didn't stay in the forest, did he? The moment we told him about the riot, he went off to the campsite."

"How d'you know?" Hermione said, raising an eyebrow. "How d'you know where he Disapperated to?"

"Come off it," Ron laughed. "Are you saying you reckon _Ludo Bagman_ conjured the Dark Mark?"

"It's more likely _he _did it than Winky," Hermione snorted.

"Told you," Ron said, turning to Hermione. "Told you she's obsessed with house—" But Sirius silenced him. Not only was their flirting reminding him of Lily and James, but also Sirius had important questions to get straight.

"When the Dark Mark had been conjured, and the elf had been discovered holding Harry's wand, what did Crouch do?"

It was Harry who answered. "He went to look in the bushes, but there wasn't anyone else there."

"Of course," Sirius muttered, starting his incessant pacing again. "Of course he'd want to pin it on anyone but his own house-elf… and then he sacked her?" The pieces were slowly falling into place.

"Yes, he sacked her," Hermione sighed passionately, "just because she hadn't stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled—"

"Hermione, will you give it a rest with the house-elf!" Ron shouted.

"She's got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron," Sirius nodded grimly. "If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."

He sighed deeply, and chucked his unfinished chicken leg at Buckbeak. He ran his hand across his unshaven face. "All these absences of Barty Crouch's… he goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too… It's not like Crouch. If he's ever taken a day off work because of illness before this," he glanced at the hippogriff, who was still gnawing on the chicken bones, "I'll eat Buckbeak."

"D'you know Crouch, then?" Harry asked him innocently.

"Oh I know Crouch all right," Sirius growled. "He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban with a trial that was so biased, it shouldn't have been held at all."

"You're kidding!" Harry, Ron and Hermione said, shocked.

"No, I'm not," Sirius said flatly. "Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know?" He asked, observing the looks on their faces. "He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic. He's great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical—and power-hungry." Sirius chuckled at the suspicious look on Harry's face, "Oh, never a Voldemort supporter—no, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who were against the Dark Side… well, you wouldn't understand… you're too young…" Sirius decided, and reached for a piece of bread.

"That's what my dad said at the World Cup," Ron snapped. Sirius dropped the bread to look at him. "Try us, why don't you?"

Sirius smiled. "All right, all right, I'll try you…"

Sirius took a deep breath. He walked the length of the cave, racking his brain for the right way to word what he wanted to say. Really, when he thought about it, there was no possible way to describe the horrors that Voldemort and his ranks inflicted upon the entire wizarding community. _No possible way…_

Sirius whipped around with his hands braced, "Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now," he said. "You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, and your family and… your friends," James dead by the sofa flashed as fast as lightening through his head. Sirius blinked and continued, "Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing…" Bellatrix laughing over the Longbottoms resurfaced again, "The Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere… panic… confusion…" Sirius said each word with a tighter throat, remembering the pain, the agony, and the frustration of the war against Voldemort. "That's how it used to be."

Sirius sighed heavily again, but Harry and his friends were still as silent as the grave.

"Well, times like that bring out the best in some people," _like Lily and James… _"And the worst in others." _Namely Peter. _"Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning—I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers—powers to kill rather than capture, for instance." Sirius rubbed his face with his hands before continuing. "Death Eaters were sent to the dementors without trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side.

"And he had his supporters, mind you—plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared," Sirius smiled gently at Harry, "it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened…"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were looking at him with wide eyes.

"Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently, they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."

"Crouch's _son _was caught?" Hermione gaped. She was no longer petting Buckbeak.

"Yep," Sirius said to her. He sat down next to Harry's open bag and ripped the loaf of bread in half. "Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while… gotten to know his own son." He tore at the French bread with his teeth.

"_Was_ his son a Death Eater?" Harry asked quietly.

"No idea. I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in." Sirius recalled his dream from Mrs. Mopsy's and thought of the skinny, blonde, boy who was screaming his innocence. But for some reason, the boy's face was cast into shadow by Bellatrix's daunting face. "He was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters—but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf." _And me._

"Did Crouch try and get his son off?" Hermione asked him.

Sirius laughed out loud. "Crouch? Let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again—doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and it wasn't much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy… then he sent him straight to Azkaban."

"He gave his own son to the dementors?" Harry asked, awestruck.

"That's right," Sirius said bitterly. "I saw them bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen." Sirius sighed once more. "They took him to a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though… they all when quiet in the end… except when they shrieked in their sleep…"

Suddenly, Sirius could hear the echoes of those screams rumbling and crashing against his brain, making him almost dizzy. His chest felt heavy, thinking of that place… with the billowing dementors at the end of every hall. The silence in the days, the chorus of ear-splitting, spine-tingling, hair-raising screeches that swam through Sirius's nightmares every night for the twelve years he was in Azkaban—

"So he's still in Azkaban?" Harry asked suddenly, jolting Sirius out of his daze.

"No," Sirius said in a monotone. "No, he's not there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in."

"He _died?"_ Hermione breathed.

"He wasn't the only one," Sirius turned to look at her with his hollow eyes. "Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They loose the will to live." Sirius looked away from Hermione and stared at the cave wall, as though there was something very interesting in its place.

"You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, they got excited," he continued quietly. He could easily conjure the feeling the dementors brought about when they were happy—that rattling breath that would inhale deeply, causing the room to feel misty and cold. How the hair would rise on the back of his neck every time they glided smoothly past his cell, the billows of their robes curling behind them. The emptiness beneath their black hoods seemed to echolocate a chilling and grim message to one another that death was fast approaching… food was on the way…

Sirius shook himself, and said, "That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half-carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I-I watched them do it." He suddenly dropped the bread on the cave floor and picked up the flask of pumpkin juice. He drank it in silence until it was gone, and then he wiped his mouth with the back of his dirty sleeve.

"So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made. One moment, a hero, poised to become the Minister of Magic… next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonored, and, so I've heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of Magical Cooperation."

Sirius wondered for a moment if he should have added "the end", since nobody said anything when he was finished. Sirius chanced a glance at Harry. His eyes were unfocused in thought, his glasses glinting in what little light fell into the cave.

"Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards," Harry said suddenly.

"Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him." Sirius shrugged, "If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater."

"And he sneaked up here to search Snape's office!" Ron cried out.

"Yes, and that doesn't make any sense at all," Sirius sighed. Though he could easily see how Snape could be a Death Eater, Dumbledore trusted Snape.

"Yeah, it does!" Ron said in protest, but Sirius cut him off.

"Listen, if Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn't he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him."

"So you think Snape could be up to something, then?" Harry asked him.

"Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape—"

"Oh, give it a rest, Hermione," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "I know Dumbledore's brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn't fool him—"

"Why did Snape save Harry's life in the first year, then? Hm? Why didn't he just let him die?"

"I dunno—maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out, or—"

"What d'you think, Sirius?!" Harry shouted over his friends. Hermione and Ron fell silent.

Sirius looked at the pair with a smile playing in the corners of his mouth. "I think they've both got a point." He cleared his throat and added, "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was…" Sirius let his sentence drift as he thought of Snape back in school, and how annoying and disgusting he was…

"Anyway, Snape knew more curses that half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins that nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters." Sirius counted them off, "Rosier and Wilkes—they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges—they're a-a married couple—they're in Azkaban." _Where they belong. _"But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater—not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And," though he hated to admit it, "Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble." _Though he wasn't in school…_

"Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep it quiet," Ron told Sirius.

"Yeah, you should've seen Snape's face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday!" Harry said eagerly. "Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he says Snape's been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried. He showed Snape something on his arm, but I couldn't see what it was—"

"He showed Snape something on his arm?" Sirius asked, startled. The Dark Mark. Hoping to avoid more questions, Sirius put on a confused face and said slowly, "Well, I have no idea what that's about… but if Karkaroff's genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for answers… But there's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort."

"Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snape's office then?" Ron said smugly.

Sirius thought for a moment. "Well, I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defense Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I'm not sure _he _trusts anyone at all, and after the things he's seen, it's not surprising."

But before Harry, Ron, or Hermione could ask what those things were, Sirius continued, "I'll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, though… he's a different matter… is he really ill?" Sirius wondered aloud. "If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape's office? And if he's not… what's he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn't turn up in the top box? What's he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament?"

Sirius gave up and slouched against the cave wall. He looked over at Buckbeak, who was no doubt scavenging for more food. Sirius chewed the inside of his bottom lip pensively.

He looked up at Ron. "You say your brother's Crouch's personal assistant? Any chances you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?"

"I can try. Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy though." Ron said with a small, pitiful smile. "Percy loves Crouch."

"And," Sirius persisted, "you might try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you're at it," he nodded to another molding newspaper.

"Bagman told me they hadn't," Harry told him.

"Yes, he's quoted in the article there. Blustering on about how bad Bertha's memory is. Well, maybe she's changed a since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn't forgetful at all—quite the reverse. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into a lot of trouble; she never knew when to keep her mouth shut." Sirius remembered fondly the time when Sirius and James attempted to modify her memory of watching Sirius and James place balloons full of tapioca pudding over the Slytherin common room entrance. The charm didn't work, but _we were only in third year… _"I can see her being a bit of a liability to the Ministry… maybe that's why Bagman didn't bother to look for her for so long…" Sirius sighed loudly once again. "What's the time?" He asked, as though it really mattered.

"It's half past three," Hermione told him.

"You'd… better get back to school," Sirius said unhappily. He pushed himself to his feet and Harry and his friends followed suit. He looked at Harry meaningfully, "Now listen… I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."

"No one's tried to attack me so far," Harry said jokingly, "except a dragon and a couple of grindylows."

Sirius smirked at him. "I don't care. I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over, and that's not until June," he confessed to Harry. "And don't forget," he added, thinking of Belle, "if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?"

Sirius bent down, and scooped up the Hogwarts napkin and flask, and handed it to Harry. Their eyes met for a moment, and Sirius smiled slightly.

"I'll walk to the edge of the village with you," he said. He transformed into a dog, and led the way out of the cave.


	9. The 24th of June

_**A/N: **Oh, I forgot to mention this earlier, but the chapter with Mrs. Mopsey... I put her in there because it was something JKR took out. Thought it would be amusing to write. If you want JKR's description of Mrs. Mopsey, go to her website jkrowling. com> and go to the extras section, I think._

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**Chapter 9  
****The 24th of June**

The next few months were so uneventful that Sirius could swear he was being punished for something. There was nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to see. When he wasn't sitting in the cave staring blankly at Buckbeak, he was out in Hogsmeade sitting on a street corner, watching the inhabitants cross the streets and hustle into shops. Occasionally, shoppers would pause to give him a sympathetic look and a hurried scratch behind the ears.

One morning, Sirius was back in the cave experimenting with how far he could bend his fingers back towards his wrist. He wondered tiredly whether with enough patience and practice and maybe a little wave of his wand if he could get his fingertips to touch the top of his arm. If only his wand wasn't still at his mother's house. But after staring at his fingers so long, the tattooed Roman numeral numbers on the backs of his fingers began to stand out against his flesh. Those numbers marked him as being a deadly and dangerous criminal, who was sentenced for life in Azkaban. Those numbers would never come off.

Sirius was just about to plunge into these depressing thoughts, when an owl came streaking into the cave. It was Hedwig. Sirius looked up her as she swooped around once and then landed in front of him.

The letter was written in Harry's hand and was written quickly, by the looks of the black ink splotches that littered the page.

Sirius read it over, his eyes scanning it so fast they seemed to be a blur. The letter described what had happened to Harry the previous night, while observing what was coming next in the third Triwizard challenge.

After Ludo Bagman had given the four champions instructions, Viktor Krum had pulled Harry aside for a private word. While they were talking, _Crouch_ snuck up on them. Harry told Sirius that Crouch was obviously insane. He kept muttering to a tree, and then suddenly snapping back to himself to demand to see Dumbledore. Crouch kept repeating that he had done something terrible and he needed to tell Dumbledore right away.

Finally, Harry broke away to fetch Dumbledore while Krum stayed behind to watch Crouch. Harry ran into Snape in the halls, who told Harry that Dumbledore was busy. But soon Dumbledore came to Harry's aid, and Harry led him to Crouch. But once they arrived to the place at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Crouch was gone and Krum had been Stunned.

Harry begged Sirius for some insight as to why Crouch would be sneaking onto Hogwarts grounds demanding to see Dumbledore. And what did Crouch mean by "'I… escaped… must warn… must tell… see Dumbledore… Bertha… dead… all my fault… Dark Lord… stronger… Harry Potter…'"?

Sirius, first off, was enraged that Harry dared to go to the edge of the Forbidden Forest at night all alone. He pulled out his quill and ink and started to write a reply.

Harry—what do you think you are playing at, walking off into the forest with Viktor Krum? I want you to swear, by return owl, that you are not going to go walking with anyone else at night. There is somebody highly dangerous at Hogwarts. It is clear to me that they wanted to stop Crouch from seeing Dumbledore and you were probably feet away from them in the dark. You could have been killed.

Your name didn't get into the Goblet of Fire by accident. If someone's trying to attack you, they're on their last chance. Stay close to Ron and Hermione, do not leave Gryffindor Tower after hours and arm yourself for the third task. Practice Stunning and Disarming. A few hexes wouldn't go amiss either. There's nothing you can do about Crouch. Keep your head down and look after yourself. I'm waiting for your letter giving me your word you won't stray out-of-bounds again.

Sirius

Sirius only hoped that this heartfelt warning would do of some good. But more than half of him was sure that Harry would disregard his letter without a second thought.

The next months passed rather quickly. It was almost as though the weather slapped itself in the forehead and finally realized suddenly that it was supposed to be spring, so the air got warmer and Sirius could hear birds chirping outside the cave.

But the nice weather was the last thing on Sirius's mind: the 24th of June was fast approaching. At least this time Harry had had time to prepare the charms and hexes that he might want to use. But this was bound to be a piece of cake, since Harry had done something identical to this in first year, right?

But still something was eating at Sirius that made him terribly uncomfortable in the days preceding the event. Whoever was trying to hurt Harry was on their last chance—if they waited much longer, they would miss it. With a painful lurch of the stomach, Sirius realized that he had been thinking the same thing this time last year—_If I don't find you soon, Peter, I'll have missed my chance… again…_

The night before the final Triwizard Tournament, Sirius folded a piece of parchment in half, intending to send Harry a good-luck card. He used a muddy paw-print to decorate the cover, and wrote a message as neatly as he could inside.

The next morning, Sirius got up early and hurried into Hogsmeade for the morning paper. He found one outside Zonko's and rushed it back to the cave. He opened the front page with a flourish. But as soon as he saw the front page, his jaw dropped.

Under a rather embarrassing picture, there was a full-length article all about Harry and how he was a disturbed and unstable teen. The whole article was distasteful, horrible and altogether hurtful. Rita Skeeter, the 'Special Correspondent', seemed to feel that Harry was not even sane enough to compete in the Task that day.

Potter, the _Daily Prophet _can exlusively reveal, regularly collapses at school, and is often heard to complain of pain in the scar on his forehead (relic of the curse with which You-Know-Who attempted to kill him). On Monday last, midway though Divination lesson, your _Daily Prophet _reporter witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming that his scar was hurting to badly to continue studying…

"He might even be pretending," said one specialist. "This could be a plea for attention"…

Albus Dumbledore should surely consider whether a boy such as this should be allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Some fear that Potter might resort to the Dark Arts in his desperation to win the tournament, the third task of which takes place this evening.

All these claims Sirius found to be ridiculous. And Harry attempting the Dark Arts during the challenge was just too much. Sirius had all the faith in the world in Harry and Sirius inwardly hoped that Harry would win the tournament, just to show them all—just in spite of everything else that had happened this year, and to prove to everyone who doubted him that Lily and James Potter's son was no mental case.

Later that afternoon, Sirius got a message from Dumbledore. The regal-looking owl fluttered through the cave opening. It dropped the letter right in front of Sirius, gave a little hoot, and then whooshed out of the cave. Sirius scrambled for the letter, and ripped it open, glancing over his shoulder at Buckbeak, who clacked his beak.

The letter instructed Sirius to go to Hagrid's pumpkin patch promptly at seven thirty for the start of the task. Dumbledore explained that he wanted Sirius close at hand during the task. Dumbledore told him to stay in dog form, and forbade him from going anywhere near the Quidditch pitch or Harry, no matter what. If something were to happen, Dumbledore would send for Sirius and only then was Sirius allowed to leave the pumpkin patch. He seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Sirius—something bad was going to happen tonight…

Sirius scowled. It sounded like Sirius was being sent to a time out… in a pumpkin patch, of all places. Maybe he could just nip over to the pitch, just to watch a short portion of the Task. He wouldn't be seen by anyone…

Sirius decided he would but had a slight queasy feeling in his stomach when he re-read the letter: "_Under no circumstances are you to leave Hagrid's yard. Do not leave the patch."_

Sirius tottered towards the Quidditch pitch carefully. Everyone was already seated for the third task, and Sirius could hear their excited babbling echoing in the stadium. Sirius headed for the box where he had sat to watch Harry play Quidditch last year, and hoped it was empty. It was; _what luck!_

Sirius got as close to the front of the box as possible, hoping that it would shield him from view. He carefully looked over the rim to see down into stadium.

But the stadium was hardly recognizable.

Where normally there was short grass, there were hedges that reached up to at least 20 feet. The hedges grew so high, that it was impossible to make out the intended path, or the creatures stalking within. But one feature was quite obvious—there was a circle in the center of the maze, where all the paths converged—there the trophy was surely sitting patiently, waiting to be rescued by one of the four nervous students who were gathered around the entrance of the maze.

Suddenly, Ludo Bagman's voice boomed throughout the stadium. "Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand!"

Sirius sat up straighter and strained to see Harry at the maze entrance.

"Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each—Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!"

Sirius's eyes grew wide, as he gave appreciative barks. Harry had never told him that he was actually _winning_, or at least tied.

Bagman continued, though with a little less enthusiasm, "in second place, with eighty points—Mr. Viktor Krum of Durmtrang Insitute! And in third place—Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!"

There was a polite applause for the other champions, but it was obvious that most of the crowd was supporting the Hogwarts students.

"So… on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!" Bagman replied happily, and Sirius could see him raise a silver whistle to his lips. "Three—two—one—" there was a whistle blast, and two figures moved towards the maze with their wands drawn. As soon as Harry and Cedric were within the thick walls of the hedges, two little, different colored balls of light bounced up over the tops of the hedges, indicating each person's progress. It was impossible to tell whether the yellow or purple ball represented Harry, but soon, the two balls split down different paths.

Moments later, Bagman's whistle announced that Krum was entering the maze, and a green ball of light followed him into the maze. Next, Delacour entered with a blue ball of light bobbing above her. All the champions were now within the maze.

Sirius wondered how Harry was doing, if maybe he had come across a monster yet. He kept a close eye on both the yellow and purple ball; unsure of which one was Harry. Krum and Delacour's lights were far away from each other, but Harry and Cedric passed each other a few times.

After roughly a half an hour, there was a piercing scream that rose from the hedges. Sirius could see McGonagall hurrying toward the maze, a bright red star glinting on her hat. It sounded like the girl—Fleur. Harry was now one step closer to the trophy.

About twenty minutes passed, and the green ball and the yellow ball were grouped together—Krum must have been talking to one of the other champions. But there were more screams—this time a boy's. The purple light, scrambled closer to the other two—and moments later there was red sparks hanging in the air. The yellow and purple lights separated.

The yellow light was headed fast in the right direction for the center circle. Purple seemed to have paused at one of the crossroads, but why, Sirius couldn't tell. But moments later, the purple light began to hurry towards the center as well—it was a race to touch the trophy!

There was some sort of a struggle for about ten minutes—the trophy must have been guarded by something. All of the onlookers were on the edges of their seats, waiting to see who would win the Galleons and all the glory of being the first winning champion in ages…

The two balls of light were moving slowly to the dead center of the maze. But which contestant would touch it first? In the next instant, both of the lights flowered and grew to be like fireworks—the Task was over.

The balls of light sucked back into two little balls and Sirius let out a sigh of relief.

The champions had decided to tie—Harry and Cedric had won! Sirius barked loudly, while the onlookers cheered and screamed blissfully… Sirius had been stressing this whole year over nothing; Harry was safe, the Tournament was done, and all was well…

But then both lights flickered and vanished.


	10. Diggory is Dead

**A/N: **_I'm really sorry I haven't updated for a while. I've been so busy, what with preparing for my next audition, the holidays, and school… which is something I should be thinking about right now, but I know I won't be able to focus until I get my daily Potter-quota in. Anyway. I hope you like the story so far… and I hope I can get some of my old readers back—I miss them!!

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**Chapter 10**

**Diggory is Dead**

Something was very wrong. Sirius knew it in the pit of his stomach. No one around him seemed to have noticed or cared that the balls of light that represented the champions had gone out. But Sirius knew that this was what he had been waiting for—Harry was in trouble.

Suddenly, Sirius could see Dumbledore streaking down to the field. He pointed his wand into the entrance of the maze, and a streaking, ghostly phoenix flew out of the tip, and jetted through the hedges. When it returned, Dumbledore seemed to understand. McGonagall was saying something to him, looking fearful. Dumbledore nodded grimly.

Sirius gripped the box edge with sweaty palms, praying that Harry was okay, and wishing with all his might that he could hear what McGonagall was saying to Dumbledore… _palms… _he looked down at his hands, and suddenly realized that he had involuntarily changed back into a man. Not bothering to transform just yet, he crouched down deep into the box.

Where was Harry? Was he all right? There was no way to know… Sirius was sweating with nervousness… he felt sick… how could he have let this happen? Why had he thought that Harry would be safe in this tournament? What had Dumbledore been thinking to allow this Tournament to occur? What about the Diggory boy? Was he okay?

Sirius inwardly hoped that the prophecy Dumbledore told him about wasn't going to be completed tonight—Harry couldn't possibly be ready. But if it were destined to happen, then maybe Voldemort would be defeated tonight, before he ever had the chance to rise again…

He held his face in his hands, and pressed his palms deep into his eyes, willing these mind-dizzying thoughts to leave his head. Lily and James's only son was missing, somehow… gone… _where is he?_

There was no telling how long Sirius sat there. Each moment brought up a more and more frightening situation that Harry might be in. But there was an outbreak of cries and shouts from down below, and Sirius knew that Harry had returned. He transformed into a dog with a _pop,_ and peeked over the box's edge.

There was Harry—laying face down in the grass at the maze's entrance. He was holding the Triwizard trophy and… Cedric's body.

There were screams of terror and confusion… people shouting to one another. But the words were all the same: "Cedric Diggory's dead!" "He's _dead!"_ "Cedric is dead!"

Sirius stumbled backwards… It wasn't possible… _what happened?_

Dumbledore rushed towards Harry, but Harry wasn't moving either. Dumbledore helped Harry to his feet, where he swayed back and forth dizzily. He was trembling terribly, still clutching the Triwizard trophy, and his eyes unfocusedly looking down at Cedric's pale body. Cornelius Fudge was hurrying over… shouting something to Dumbledore. Sirius put his paws on the edge of the box and peered over the edge, trance-like.

Amos Diggory was sprinting forward with his wife on his heels… running to their son's side. Amos's wife screamed when her eyes fell upon Cedric's body and her tears were visible even from Sirius's distance.

Sirius suddenly realized he needed to get down to the pumpkin patch. He bounded down the stairs and away from the Quidditch pitch, though he didn't want to leave Harry. But hadn't Dumbledore said he shouldn't have left the patch in the first place?

He sat quietly in Hagrid's yard. He could still hear people screaming and crying from the stadium. Girls sobbing, Fudge shouting at someone. But still, two word's echoed all around the grounds: "_Cedric's dead!"_

Two people moving towards the castle caught Sirius's attention. It was Mad-Eye Moody… he was half-carrying, half-dragging Harry to the castle. Harry was muttering wildly… explaining something to Moody deliriously…

Sirius got the idea to follow them… surely Moody would be happy to see him again? But Sirius remembered Dumbledore's warning and he stayed where he was, all the while praying that Harry was all right… praying that Harry wasn't hurt…

Moments later, Moody was followed by Dumbledore, who was striding purposefully across the lawn. Sirius gave a loud bark, hoping to catch his attention. Dumbledore paused. Their eyes met, and Dumbledore frowned slightly. McGonagall and Snape were hurrying up the lawn after Dumbledore.

"What's going on, Albus? What's the matter?" McGonagall cried to him.

"We need to get Harry."

"Potter is with Moody, Professor," Snape said quietly.

"That is not Alastor Moody," Dumbledore said to him furiously, and he started towards the castle again. Sirius cocked his head. _What?_

"Albus… what do you mean…?"

"The real Alastor Moody would never have removed Harry from my sight after what happened. _Never,"_ Sirius head Dumbledore say as the castle door slammed closed behind the group of professors with a reverberating sound.

Sirius sat more patiently than even he thought he could. He didn't move, didn't even hardly breath. His mind was spinning with questions… but it was taking all of his will power and strength not to burst through those double doors and demand to know what was going on.

After what seemed like hours, Minerva McGonagall descended the castle stairs and started walking straight towards him. Sirius wondered if McGonagall knew that he was an Animagus, but his question was instantly answered when she stood tensely before him.

"Come on, Black. Follow me," she said with a sigh. Looking closely at her, McGonagall looked to be on the verge of tears.

Sirius gave a small bark, as if to ask what was going on. She did not answer, but led the way up the stone steps and into the entrance hall. Up the flight of marble stairs they went and down the corridors to Dumbledore's office. McGonagall said the password, and the entrance to Dumbledore's office spun open.

"You are to wait in Dumbledore's office, until he and Harry arrive," she said edgily.

"He'll be here soon, then?" Sirius asked her, transforming quickly.

"Mr. Black! Do watch where you are transforming!" she said in a horrified whisper.

"They'll come here soon?" Sirius repeated persistently.

"Yes, I imagine so," McGonagall said. She turned to leave, but Sirius touched her arm.

"Is… Is Harry all right?" he asked her softly.

McGonagall looked at him with an unreadable face. "He'll be fine."

She motioned for him to go up the stairs. Sirius did, and he entered Dumbledore's office quietly, his breathing somewhat shallow.

The hundreds of portraits on the walls were all pretending to be asleep again, just like they had when Sirius was sent here for punishment in his years at Hogwarts. Dumbledore's odd contraptions whirred and clicked on spindly tables, glinting silver in the light. Sirius sat himself in front of Dumbledore's desk in one of the squashy armchairs. Outside the window, Sirius could see the starry night sky and wondered how Cedric's parents were doing.

Sirius closed his eyes and sighed heavily. He heard one of the overhead portraits give a grunting snore.

"If you want to know why I'm here, just ask," Sirius said flatly.

"I'd prefer Dumbledore's take on the events over yours, thanks," said a grumpy, yet familiar voice.

Sirius craned his head to look at the portrait that had spoken. It was a gray-haired man who was seated in a big leather chair. Behind him was a banner of green and silver. "Phinneas Negillius?"

"That's right, you dirty, rotten—"

"Nice to see you too," Sirius sighed again, turning back around to face Dumbledore's desk.

"Now, now, Phinneas, be nice to your great-great-grandson, why don't you…"

"And you wonder why you were the least popular Head here…"

"Thanks for sticking up for me, and all," Sirius said agitatedly to the pictures, "but I liked you better when you were asleep…"

"Well, I never!"

Sirius rolled his eyes and put his head on his knees. This was going to be a long wait.


	11. Voldemort Has Returned

**A/N: **_Sorry I haven't updated in a few weeks. But I'm making up for it now. Hey, I found out today that my "forte" intumbling in PEis doing back-walk-overs. I'm thrilled, can't you tell? Anyway. I really like this song, "Louder Than Words" from Tick, Tick... BOOM! It goes something like this:__"Actions speak louder than words… cages or wings, which do you prefer? Ask the birds… Fear or love, baby, don't say the answer; actions speak louder than…"  
__Sorry, couldn't resist.

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**Chapter 12**

**Voldemort' Has Returned**

It seemed as though hours had passed, though really it couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes. But when Sirius heard two people approaching the office, Sirius jumped out of his chair and stood anxiously, twisting his fingers around his sleeve hems.

Dumbledore pushed open the office door and stepped to one side. There was Harry, looking tired, confused and ill. When Harry's eyes fell upon his godfather, they lit up slightly and the corners of his mouth lifted gently. Sirius hurried over to him.

"Harry, are you all right? I knew it—I knew something like this—what happened?" Sirius could hardly get the words out of his mouth. Sirius helped Harry into one of the chairs opposite Dumbledore's. Harry's skin was ice-cold to the touch.

"What happened?" Sirius repeated.

Dumbledore walked slowly to his desk and sat down. Harry was looking at the ground.

"It was Crouch's son—Crouch Jr.," Dumbledore said. "He was a Death Eater, posing as Moody to help Voldemort regain his body tonight."

"_What?"_

"Crouch Jr. escaped Azkaban with the help of his dying mother. They both took the Polyjuice Potion and it was Mrs. Crouch who died in the Azkaban cell. His father smuggled his son out, pretending that it was his wife he was taking with him. Barty staged his wife's death, and then placed his son under the Imperius Curse to keep him under control—"

"I'm sorry, but how do you know all this?" Sirius interrupted.

"Veritaserum. We had Crouch Jr. take some just a few moments ago," Dumbledore continued. "Crouch Jr. wore an invisibility cloak at all times and was kept under control by Winky the house-elf. But he was continually getting stronger, and wanted to find Voldemort again.

"Bertha Jorkins discovered that Crouch Jr. was still alive, so his father placed a powerful Memory charm on her. So powerful, in fact, it altered her memory forever. But it wasn't so powerful that Voldemort couldn't break it, however. Voldemort discovered that Crouch Jr. was still alive and wanted to help his return.

"So after the Quidditch World Cup, where Crouch Jr. had stolen Harry's wand, Voldemort paid the Crouch family a visit. With the help of Voldemort, Crouch Jr. was able to overpower his father.

"He and Peter Pettigrew went to the real Mad-Eye Moody's house and captured him. They made the Polyjuice Potion, and Crouch Jr. began to take it and began to turn into Moody. He has been at Hogwarts all year, guiding Harry though the Triwizard Tournament, while without appearing to do so.

"When Barty Crouch overcame the Imperius Curse placed upon him by Voldemort, he came to Hogwarts, hoping to warn me of what his son was doing. But Crouch Jr. found him first, and killed him and Stunned Viktor Krum.

"Then, tonight, Crouch Jr. turned the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey, and it brought Harry and Cedric right to Voldemort's trap," Dumbledore said finally.

Sirius's head was spinning. How could this have happened? Right under Dumbledore's nose? Sirius had always thought that Dumbledore was a genius and that nothing ever escaped him… but now…

There was a deathly silence in the room. Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, flew swiftly across the room and landed on Harry's knee. Harry stroked the bird's beautiful plumage carefully. The bird's scarlet and gold feathers seemed to smolder in the light.

Dumbledore was staring at Harry unblinkingly. Harry was determinedly avoiding his gaze, and watching Fawkes intently.

"I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the maze, Harry," Dumbledore said to him quietly.

Harry didn't say a word. Sirius spoke for him.

"We can leave that til morning, can't we, Dumbledore?" Sirius reached out to Harry and put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "Let him have a sleep. Let him rest."

But Dumbledore didn't answer him. Instead, he leaned closer to Harry, trying to make Harry look up at him. "If I thought I could help you by putting you in an enchanted sleep and allowing you to postpone the moment when you would have to think about what has happened tonight, I would do it," Dumbledore said. "But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time. I ask you to tell us what happened."

Harry was looking at Dumbledore unwillingly. The only sound in the room was the pulsating clack of one of Dumbledore's silver instruments.

Fawkes cooed out one solitary note. It quavered in the air, and relaxed Sirius slightly. He loosened his death-grip on Harry's shoulder. He hadn't even realized he had been squeezing it so hard.

"When… Cedric and I landed, we didn't know where we were. We were standing in a-a graveyard. At first, we thought that it might have been an extension of the Task, maybe. But, then we saw someone coming towards us. It was… It was Wormtail. He was carrying Voldemort, who was like a baby—only he was scaly… and red and had the face of a snake," Harry gulped as though he had just swallowed something disgusting. "Voldemort ordered Wormtail to kill Cedric. He did… and Cedric—Cedric fell… right next to me, he just dropped to the ground… his face was blank and lifeless… I couldn't…" Harry was talking slowly, as though each word was painful to say.

"Oh, Harry—" Sirius began, but Dumbledore raised a hand to stop him. Harry regained himself and continued.

"Wormtail tied me to Voldemort's father's gravestone and started to make a potion… he placed the creature—Voldemort—into the cauldron. Then Wormtail started to say some… incantation… the dust of Voldemort's father flew into the cauldron and…" Harry shuddered, "Wormtail cut off his right hand and put it into the potion… and then he cut my arm and took my blood and—"

"Damn it!" Sirius shouted and he slouched back in his chair. Voldemort had risen, that was all there was to it. Dumbledore had worked so hard to put all that protection into Harry… now Voldemort had it too.

Dumbledore shot up out of his chair and strode around the desk to Harry's side. "Let me see your arm," he insisted.

Harry stretched out his right arm, and, sure enough, his robes were soaked with blood. Dumbledore pushed up the sleeve and examined the cut carefully as Harry said, "Voldemort said my blood would make him stronger than anyone else's. He said the protection my—my mother left in me—he'd have it too. And he was right—he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face."

Sirius stared at his godson as though he had never truly seen him before. Voldemort had touched Harry.

"Very well," Dumbledore said heavily, sitting back down. "Voldemort has overcome that particular barrier. Harry, continue, please."

Harry went on to explain how Voldemort had touched a whimpering Wormtail's Dark Mark. Death Eaters began to Apparate into the graveyard. He told them how Voldemort had addressed his Death Eaters, telling them how disgusted he was that only a few of them had decided to remain true to him. And then Voldemort had released Harry and given him back his wand. Voldemort had wanted to duel Harry—to play with him before killing him.

But, after dodging Voldemort's futile attempts, Harry explained how his and Voldemort's wands connected with a golden beam of light, which had spread around them like a spider web. But Harry's voice was starting to break, and he tried to keep talking, though his words were disjointed with his effort not to cry.

"The wands connected? Why?" Sirius interrupted, hoping that his question could give Harry a chance to recollect himself. He gave Harry's shoulder a small, supportive squeeze.

"_Priori Incantatem,"_ Dumbledore said simply.

"The Reverse Spell Effect?"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore. "Harry's wand and Voldemort's share cores. Each of them contains a feather from the tail of the same phoenix. _This _phoenix, in fact," Dumbledore said, smiling at Fawkes.

"My wand's feather came from Fawkes?" Harry repeated.

"Yes. Mr. Ollivander wrote to tell me you had bought the second wand, the moment you left his shop four years ago," Dumbledore said with a heavy sigh.

"So, what happens when a wand meets its brother?" Sirius asked, curious.

"They will not work properly against each other," Dumbledore replied. "If, however, the owners of the wands force the wands to do battle… a very rare effect will take place. One of the wands will be forced to regurgitate spells it has performed—in reverse. The most recent first… and then those which preceded it…"

Dumbledore was looking at Harry while he spoke, as if searching for approval. Harry nodded wordlessly.

"Diggory came back to life?" Sirius asked sharply.

"No spell can reawaken the dead," Dumbledore said seriously. "All that would have happened is a kind of reverse echo. A shadow of the living Cedric would have emerged from the wand… am I correct Harry?"

Harry began to shiver. "He spoke to me. The… the ghost Cedric, or whatever he was, spoke."

"An echo which retained Cedric's appearance and character," Dumbledore nodded knowingly. "I am guessing other such forms appeared… less recent victims of Voldemort's wand…"

"An old man," Harry said with a quavering voice. "Bertha Jorkins. And…" Harry drifted off and looked at the ground.

"Your parents?" said Dumbledore softly.

"Yes."

Sirius's hand tightened on Harry's shoulder, and his breathing became short. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to picture how happy James and Lily would have been to see their son again…

"The last murders of the wand performed in reverse order," Dumbledore continued. "More would have appeared, of course, had you maintained the connection. Very well, Harry, these echoes, these shadows… what did they do?"

"They spoke to me… told me to hold on… made Voldemort really nervous…" Harry explained how the shadows had patrolled around the pair of them. How Lily and James had emerged from the wand and told him what he had to do—how he needed to break the connection with Voldemort then run to the Portkey. He said that Cedric had asked Harry to bring his body back to Hogwarts.

As Harry spoke of Lily and James, Sirius let go of Harry for fear that he would cause a dent in Harry's shoulder. Sirius put his head in his hands and told himself to stay strong… _stay strong for Harry… he needs you to be strong…_

"I will say it again," Dumbledore replied, once Harry had finished. "You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have ever expected of you tonight, Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourself equal to it—and you have now given us all we have a right to expect. You will come with me to the hospital wing. I do not want you returning to your dormitory tonight A Sleeping Potion, and some peace… Sirius? Would you like to stay with him?"

Sirius looked up and nodded. Sirius transformed into a dog once more, and followed Harry and Dumbledore out of his office. Sirius was glad that Dumbledore wasn't going to make Harry go back to his dormitory tonight… surely the boys there would ask too many questions—too many unanswerable questions.


	12. Parting of the Ways

**A/N: **_This is one of my fave chapters in this story. It rocks. It just does.  
__I've been addicted to "Rent" ever since my friend burnt me the cd. It's genius. I want to marry Mark. I just do. I had finals today and I couldn't get "La Vie Boheme" out of my head. Curses.  
__One chapter after this, and then I have to finish "OotP"…

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**Chapter 12**

**Parting of the Ways**

They entered the hospital wing side by side. Sirius walked as close to Harry as possible, so that his black head was just brushing Harry's limp and tired fingertips.

Molly, Bill, and Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were all gathered around Madam Pomfrey, demanding to know where Harry was.

"Is he all right? Has he come in here yet?" Molly asked her briskly.

"No—he's with… Dumbledore!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, when her eyes landed on the headmaster. Molly turned and when she saw Harry, she let out a small scream and ran to him.

Dumbledore, however, stepped between them. "Molly, please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him," he looked around at the large group, "you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening."

Molly nodded vigorously, and turned around to the children and hissed, "Did you hear? He needs quiet!"

"Er, Headmaster…" Madam Pomfrey interrupted. She was staring at Sirius distastefully; he glared up at her. "May I ask what—?"

"This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while. I assure you his is extremely well trained," Dumbledore said with a small smile. He turned to Sirius's godson and said, "Harry—I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge. I would like you to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the school." He touched Harry's shoulder, and strode out of the room. The door clicked shut behind him.

Everyone was very quiet, as Madam Pomfrey led Harry to a nearby bed. Harry was looking around as she handed him a pair of pajamas.

"Is he okay?" Harry asked, motioning across the room. Sirius followed his gaze and saw the real Mad-Eye Moody lying straight as a log in a hospital bed. His grizzly black hair was missing chunks, since Crouch Jr. had needed to use it for the Polyjuice Potion. His magical eye—which had been the cause for his nickname—and his rough wooden leg were laid out on the bedside table.

"He'll be fine," Madam Pomfrey said hurriedly, as she pulled screens around Harry so he could change.

When Harry was in his pajamas, Madam Pomfrey helped him climb into the high bed, and Harry's company gathered around the bed and sat down in chairs. Sirius clambered into a chair as close to Harry as he could get. He didn't want to let Harry out of his sight… ever…

Sirius glanced at Ron and Hermione and saw that they were looking at Harry cautiously, their chairs so close together that their arms were touching.

Harry must have noticed their worried looks, for he muttered, "I'm all right… just tired."

Molly Weasley reached over and began to smooth Harry's bedcovers with trembling hands. Sirius watched her hands with a squirming stomach, knowing that it should be him who was tucking Harry in—not Molly.

Madam Pomfrey returned from her office, carrying a goblet and an oddly shaped purple bottle. She uncapped the bottle and poured some of it into the goblet. "You'll need to drink all of this, Harry," she said. "It's a potion for a dreamless sleep."

Harry took the goblet from her outstretched hands, and began to drink. His hand grew unsteady as the potion began to work instantly. Molly reached out and took the goblet from Harry as he sunk into his pillows and slept.

Molly stood up and, with a wary glance at Sirius, she reached over him and placed the goblet on Harry's bedside table. She stepped in front of Sirius and removed Harry's glasses from his face and folded them carefully. She placed them next to the goblet, and she looked down at the sleeping Harry. She sniffed sadly, and brushed Harry's bangs out of his face with her quivering hand, revealing the pink, lightening-shaped scar on his forehead. To Sirius's frustration, she bent down and kissed Harry's head, then returned to her seat with her hands folded across her lap.

Her son, Bill, touched her arm gently, as though to comfort his mother. But what did she need comforting for? Molly was not responsible for Harry—Sirius was. It was he who had been trusted with Harry's welfare after his parents' death. It was Sirius who had broken his promise to Lily and James by letting their son fall into Voldemort's clutches once again…

But yelling from outside the hospital wing brought Sirius back to his senses.

"They'll wake him if they don't shut up!" Ron whispered angrily.

Molly stood up, as though to go see what all the commotion was about. Bill sat up straight in his chair.

"What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have happened, can it?" Hermione asked softly.

"That's Fudge's voice," Molly whispered. "And that's Minerva McGonagall, isn't it? But what are they arguing about?"

"Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva—" the Minster of Magic was shouting at the top of his lungs.

"You should have never brought it inside the castle! When Dumbledore finds out—" McGonagall was screaming as the hospital doors flew open and banged against the walls.

Bill leapt up and pulled back Harry's screens, and Sirius saw Harry sit up and reach for his glasses.

Fudge came strutting up the ward with Professor McGonagall and Severus Snape at his heels.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Fudge asked Molly angrily.

"He's not here," Molly growled. "This is a hospital wing, Minister, don't you think you'd do better to—"

"What has happened?"

Everyone looked around to see Dumbledore in the door of the hospital wing, and Sirius let out a small sigh of relief. Whatever was going on, Dumbledore could set it right.

"Why are you disturbing these people?" Dumbledore asked Fudge, before turning to McGonagall, "Minerva, I'm surprised at you—I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch Jr.—"

"There is no need to stands guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!" she screamed. "The Minster has seen to that!" She was literally shaking with rage: her face was flushed and her hands were balled into fists.

But it was Snape who explained, "When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events, he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question." Snape spoke in a low voice that was dripping with distain—a voice that he usually saved for talking to James and Sirius. "He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch—"

"I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!" McGonagall shouted, but Sirius's insides were contracting. A dementor was in the castle? What if it found him? If it did, it would surely drag him off to Azkaban again, especially now that Peter's hand with the missing finger was cut off…

"My dear woman!" Fudge roared. "As Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous—"

But Professor McGonagall was shouting so loudly, that Fudge's complaints couldn't be heard. "The moment that—that thing entered the room, it swooped down on Crouch and—and—"

But there was no need for McGonagall to finish, for everyone in the room knew what she was going to say. The dementor had sucked Crouch's soul right out of his mouth, as Sirius had heard happen so many times. There would be a horrible inhaling and the sound of a rushing wind would rise through the air, swirling around towards the dementor's only facial feature—its gaping hole of a mouth… and then the victim would be worse than dead.

"By all accounts, he is no loss!" fumed Fudge. "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths!"

"But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius," Dumbledore said quietly. He was looking at Fudge confusedly with his deep blue eyes, as though, he was seeing him plainly for the first time. "He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people."

"Why he killed them? Why he killed them, Dumbledore?" blustered Fudge. "Well, that's no mystery, is it? He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!"

Dumbledore shook his head slightly, "Lord Voldemort _was _giving him instructions, Cornelius. Those people's deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has restored his body."

Fudge looked as though Dumbledore had just punched him in the face. He was staring at Dumbledore like he was crazy.

"You-Know-Who… returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore…"

"As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you," Dumbledore continued, over Fudge's rambling. "We have heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort—learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins—went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return."

Fudge's face broke into a smile. "See here, Dumbledore, you—you can't seriously believe that. You-Know-Who—back? Come now, come now… certainly, Crouch may have _believed_ himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders—but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore…"

Sirius resisted the urge to pounce on Fudge right then. Dumbledore may have made a mistake this year, and may have been fooled by Voldemort—but Dumbledore was still the most powerful wizard in the world, and Fudge had no right to treat him the way he was.

"When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort," Dumbledore said simply. "He witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office."

Fudge was looking at Harry, his face still contorted in that curious smile. Dumbledore seemed to know what he was thinking and said, "I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight."

Fudge looked back at Dumbledore. "You are—er—prepared to take Harry's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?"

Sirius began to growl deep in his throat. He could feel the hair rising on his back. How _dare_ Fudge accuse Harry of lying… How _dare_ he…

"Certainly I believe Harry," Dumbledore said, looking equally as angry as Sirius—though his teeth were not bared, like Sirius's were. "I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard Harry's account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer."

"You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who… well…"

Fudge shot Harry a disapproving look.

"You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge," Harry said softly, and everyone looked around at him.

Fudge's face grew scarlet. "And if I have? If I have discovered that you've been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh?" Fudge said, rounding on Harry and approaching the hospital bed where he lay. "And having funny turns all over the place—"

"I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?" Dumbledore said quite calmly.

"You admit he's been having these pains then?" Fudge exclaimed, as though he were winning the argument by establishing this. "Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly—hallucinations?"

"Listen to me, Cornelius," Dumbledore said warningly. "Harry is just as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous."

Fudge took a stumbling step backwards but said, "you'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before…"

Harry was suddenly rigid with anger, "Look, I saw Voldemort come back!" He ripped back his bedcovers to get out of bed, but Molly restrained him. "I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy—"

"Malfoy was cleared!" Fudge shouted. "A very old family—donations to excellent causes—"

"Macnair!" Harry continued.

"Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!"

"Avery—Nott—Crabbe—Goyle—"

"You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago! You could have found those names in old reports of the trials!" Fudge shouted at Harry. "For heaven's sake, Dumbledore—the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too—his tales are getting taller, and you're still swallowing them—the boy can talk to snakes, Dumbledore, and you still think he's trustworthy?"

"YOU FOOL!" McGonagall screamed. "Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!"

"I see no evidence to the contrary!" shouted Fudge, his face so red it looked purple. "It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these past thirteen years!"

Fudge was such an idiot.

"Voldemort has returned," Dumbledore said calmly. "If you accept that fact straightaway, Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation. The first and most essential step is to remove Azkaban from the control of the dementors—"

"Preposterous!" Fudge yelled again. "Remove the dementors? I'd be kicked out of office for suggesting it! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night because we know the dementors are standing guard at Azkaban!"

_But if they knew how it felt to be locked up in there, they might just change their minds…_

"The rest of us sleep less soundly in our beds, Cornelius, knowing that you have put Lord Voldemort's most dangerous supporters in the care of creatures who will join him the instant he asks them!" Dumbledore pointed out, his eyes flashing. "They will not remain loyal to you, Fudge! Voldemort can offer them much more scope for their powers and their pleasures than you can! With the dementors behind him, and his old supporters returned to him, you will be hard-pressed to stop him regaining the sort of power he had thirteen years ago!"

Sirius could help but think that Fudge resembled a fish, with his mouth opening and closing with not a single sound coming out. Dumbledore was right—every single person in the room knew it, even Fudge.

"The second step you must take—and at once," Dumbledore continued, "is to send envoys to the giants."

"Envoys to the giants?" Fudge repeated, scandalized. "What madness is this?"

"Extend them the hand of friendship, now, before it is too late, or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among wizards will give them their rights and their freedom!"

"You—you cannot be serious!" Fudge stumbled even further away from Dumbledore, as though he were as crazy as Crouch Jr. "If the magical community got wind that I had approached the giants—people hate them, Dumbledore—end of my career—"

"You are blinded," said Dumbledore, his voice raising now, the aura of power around him palpable, his eyes blazing once more, "by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! Your dementor has just destroyed the last remaining member of a pure blood family as old as any—and see what that man chose to make of his life! I tell you now—take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Minister of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act—and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!"

"Insane… Mad…" Fudge hissed, stepping back once more.

No one said anything for a moment, but stared at the Minister with a newfound sense of his personality. How could the man they elected point-blank refuse to accept that Voldemort could find a way to return to power? How could he back away from Dumbledore, when he had just given Fudge helpful advice on how to stop history from repeating itself?

"If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius," Dumbledore said quietly yet clearly, "we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I—I shall act as I see fit."

Dumbledore was not being threatening; rather, he was simply stating what seemed to be a fact. If Fudge was going to act like a prat, then Dumbledore was going to take steps necessary to keep Voldemort at bay.

"Now, see here, Dumbledore," Fudge said, sticking his finger in Dumbledore's face. "I've given you free-reign, always. I've had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I've kept quiet. There aren't many who'd have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you're going to work against me—"

"The only one against whom I intend to work," Dumbledore said, gentle pushing Fudge's accusatory finger away from him, "is Lord Voldemort. If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side."

Fudge didn't say anything, but rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. When he spoke, he almost seemed to be pleading with Dumbledore, "He can't be back, Dumbledore… he just can't be…"

Suddenly, Snape strode forward, rolling up the sleeve of his robes as he went. Fudge was taken aback, thinking that Snape was going to attack him. But though that seemed like a good idea to Sirius, Snape said forcefully, "There. There. The Dark Mark." Snape thrust his left arm under Fudge's nose and Fudge peered at it disbelievingly. "It is not as strong as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkakoff's too. Why do you think Karkakoff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkakoff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

"I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore," Fudge muttered wildly, stepping away from Snape, repulsed by his Mark, "but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry." Fudge walked briskly past Dumbledore, but paused at the door. He looked at Harry and walked back toward him. "Your winnings," he said shortly. "One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances…"

Fudge jammed his little bowler on his head and marched out of the room, his robes whipping behind him. Dumbledore gave a small sigh and looked around at Sirius and Harry's company.

"There is work to be done," he replied. "Molly… am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?"

"Of course you can," Mrs. Weasley said at once. "We know what Fudge is. It's Arthur's fondness for Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride."

"Then I need to send a message to Arthur," Dumbledore nodded. "All those who can be persuaded of the truth must be notified immediately, and he is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as shortsighted as Cornelius."

"I'll go to Dad," Bill said, standing up and walking towards Dumbledore. "I'll go right now."

"Excellent. Tell him what has happened," Dumbledore replied. "Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry—"

"Leave it to me," Bill said. He clapped Harry on the shoulder, kissed his mother, pulled on his cloak, nodded to Dumbledore and left the hospital wing.

"Minerva," said Dumbledore, turning to McGonagall. "I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also—if she will consent to come—Madame Maxime."

McGonagall nodded, and strode out of the room without another word.

"Poppy," Dumbledore looked to Madam Pomfrey, "would you be very kind and go down to Professor Moody's office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby will look after her for us."

"Very—very well," Madam Pomfrey said, looking slightly bewildered. She walked out of the room looking very taken aback.

"And now," Dumbledore said, his eyes resting on Sirius for the first time since they had left his office. "It is time for two of our number to recognize each other for what they are. Sirius… if your could resume your usual form?"

Sirius looked up at Dumbledore, gave a small sigh, and transformed into a man.

"SIRIUS BLACK!" Molly screamed, as she leapt away from his chair, and grabbed Ron's wrist in a futile attempt to rescue her son from this mass murderer.

"Mum, shut up! It's okay!" Ron exclaimed, ripping his arm out of her grasp.

Sirius looked at Snape who was glaring at him with pure hate pulsating out of his eyes. "Him! What is he doing here?"

Sirius met his threatening stare with equal loathing and detestation. Sirius wanted to say something wicked and vehement, but Dumbledore spoke first.

"He is here at my invitation, as are you, Severus." Dumbledore looked from Snape to Sirius. "I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other."

Neither of the sworn enemies moved nor spoke. Sirius's fists were balled and he was finding it hard not to pounce on Snape and rip him apart.

"I will settle, in the short term," Dumbledore continued with a bite of impatience in his voice, "for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth do not stand united, there is no hope for any of us."

Not blinking, Sirius moved around Harry's bed and stuck out his hand. However much he hated Snape—however much Sirius wished that Snape would drop dead at this moment—Dumbledore was right. Snape stared at Sirius's hand for a moment, then moved forward and took it. But as they shook, they both tightened their grip as hard as they could, hoping to break the other's fingers off.

"That will do to be going on with," said Dumbledore, stepping in between them, as though hoping that separating them would make them not want to duel each other to the death. "Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher—the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for awhile; I will contact you there."

"But—" Harry began.

Sirius turned to his godson and walked closer to his bed. For some odd reason, he could feel Molly's eyes burning into his back, and Sirius resisted the urge to ruffle Harry's hair just to make her angry.

He looked at Harry carefully, sincerely wishing that he could stay here with him. "You'll see me very soon, Harry. I promise you," he said. Looking Harry dead in the eye, he added, "but I must do what I can, you understand, don't you?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Yeah… of course I do."

Sirius smiled at him and shook his hand briefly. He looked around at everybody; Molly still seemed shocked that she had been sitting right next to him the whole time, and didn't know that he was Sirius Black. Finally, Sirius nodded to Dumbledore and transformed into a dog. He hurried the length of the room, turned the doorknob with his paw, and left.

He hurried down the Hogwarts corridors, bounding down the marble stairs at full-speed. He knew that he would have to set out for Remus's straight away… he hoped that he could get there before the night was through, but he wasn't sure.

As Sirius headed toward the Great Hall, he saw the Diggorys being led by Professor Sprout down to the Hufflepuff common room.

"He was a wonderful boy—so bright, and loyal, and honest…" Sprout was saying.

Amos was crying steadily, strong, silent tears that secretly slid down his face and into his beard. His wife, however, seemed solid and her grieving was now far beyond tears. She was listening to Sprout without really listening, though she nodded occasionally and looked at her feet.

They disappeared down the corridor as Sirius felt an empathetic knot in his stomach tighten. Sirius backed away, intending to hide just to be sure they were gone, but he felt himself hit something. He craned his head up and saw Snape standing above him, looking very smug.

"Eavesdropping, are we?" he said with a sneer. "Intruding upon family grief?"

"Nothing of the sort, Snivellus," Sirius said in a dangerous whisper, after transforming instantly. "So, what does Dumbledore want _you _to do for the Order? Wash your hair, perhaps?"

"Something far more important and far more secret than what he's asked _you_ to do," Snape said with a raised eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

"I do hope you realize, Black, that you won't be able to help the Order as much as you seem to think you can. You're an escaped convict… and a hopeless, blithering idiot… there's really no use for you to be in the Order at all," Snape said, continuing down the steps and making his way towards the dungeon's cave-like mouth.

"What do you mean by that?" Sirius called after him, looking warily over his shoulder up the marble staircase.

"Just as I say, Black," Snape said, pausing, "you won't be able to _do _anything. Not a single thing, except sit at home and twiddle your thumbs."

"I was one of our most influential members thirteen years ago and I still am now. I'm more of an asset to the Order than you ever—"

"Well, I don't know about you being an asset… an _ass_, surely… but an asset?"

"You think you're so brilliant, don't you? But I know you haven't changed. You're still the same greasy jerk you always were… Up past your eyes in the Dark Arts… conniving little idiot, you were. Don't quite know why Dumbledore decided he could trust you," Sirius said through his teeth.

But Snape suddenly whipped out his wand; Sirius had struck a chord. He stuck the wand in Sirius's face like a dagger and fumed.

Sirius grinned. "Ooh, what're you going to do, Snivelly? Wipe your nose on me?"

"Think what you will. But we'll see who's grinning when you hear what I said come right out of Dumbledore's mouth, won't we?" Snape said violently.

"I wonder what your precious Dark Lord will say when he finds out you're working for his enemy? He might just kill you… but it's only wishful thinking on my part…"

At this remark, Snape bodily grabbed the front of Sirius's robes and pointed his wand right at Sirius's eye. Sirius struggled to rip his clothes from Snape's grasp, but it was no use.

"I should have killed you last year when I had the chance. Should have cursed you into oblivion—right in front of your godson and your best friend. If I had been thinking properly, I would have brought a dementor along with me—could have sucked out your soul right then and there. And just between you and me, Black, nothing would please me more than to see you die a ghastly and excruciating death," he whispered menacingly, his sour and sick-smelling breath filling Sirius's nostrils.

"Well, I'm glad the feeling's mutual!" Sirius said lightly as he attempted to clap Snape on the shoulder, even though his toes were just barely touching the ground. Sirius gave him a haughty smile, and Snape threw him ferociously to the floor. Sirius stood up immediately and brushed himself off.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to write an _important_ and _classified_ letter for the Order…"

Not moving until Snape's footsteps had died away, Sirius popped back into a dog. He wanted nothing more than to run after Snape, jump on his back, and bite him until he cried like the little pansy he was…

But, controlling his anger, he left Hogwarts and ran to Hogsmeade, not stopping or looking over his shoulder until he had reached the mountainside. Only then did he slow down to pick his way over the rocks, his four padded feet tired and aching.

He entered the cave, and saw Buckbeak gnawing on an old, cracked bone. Sirius turned back into a man and started to gather up his very few belongings—his leaking forever-ink quill and the yellowing newspapers, deciding that they wouldn't be worth carrying along. He took Buckbeak forward, leading him by his rope and climbed onto his back with little difficulty.

"We're going to see Remus, Beaky… Come on, up…" Sirius urged, and the hippogriff lifted into the air, and flew right out of the cave's mouth. By no means was Sirius sad to leave that cramped, boring, little hellhole. In fact, feeling the now familiar rush of wind on his face was very refreshing and Snape's taunts that had been clanging in his ears vanished instantly.


	13. Flying Home

**A/N: **_The last chapter. The next Prisoner is really good so far and I know that you all are going to love it. Or at least, I love it. You can read more about it at the end of this chapter. You've all been great reviewers! Thanks!

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**Chapter 13**

**Flying Home**

When Sirius saw Remus's house down below, he nudged Buckbeak with his heels to land. Remus's house was somewhat removed from the wizarding village it was supposedly apart of. In fact, it was so far away, Remus wouldn't be able to walk there in under an hour. But this was only due to his being a werewolf, and he felt that it was more important for his neighbors to be safe than him to be able to walk to town for groceries.

Landing on the grass, Sirius slid off of Buckbeak's back and led him to a tree. Sirius carefully tied him up on one of the branches, and made his way across the large lawn to Remus's small house. The exterior of Remus's house was quite shabby: there were missing shingles from the roof and the shutters over the windows were broken and cracked. The paint was chipped and worn, and the house creaked loudly if the wind blew too hard.

Sirius marched purposefully up the pathway to Remus's front door, and he knocked forcefully, hoping Remus would still be awake at this late hour. It took quite a few loud pounds and a couple of shouts before the porch light was flicked on and the front door pulled open.

"Hey, Mooney… Hope I didn't wake you…" said Sirius with a sheepish smile. He knew that he had awoken Remus, for his eyes were still misted with sleep and his bathrobe was tied sloppily over his pajamas.

"Sirius—what… This is a surprise," he stammered, opening the door wider and motioning for Sirius to enter. The hall light was on and illuminated Remus's lined face and the features of Remus's entryway.

An heirloom rug was laid out on the floor. It was a magical rug, which, if you stared at it long enough, the patterns would seem to travel around the perimeter. An old grandfather clock ticked resolutely next to the door and a hat rack held a holey woolen scarf and a rather ragged traveling cloak.

"How did Harry's Third Task go? Did he win?" Remus asked, stifling a yawn. He led Sirius into the study and waved his wand for the lights to rise. Sirius sat down on a stiff couch and rubbed the stubble on his face with his hand.

"I don't really know how to say this, but, well…" Sirius muttered. "Well, Voldemort's back."

"_What?"_

Sirius then launched into the whole story—from the beginning of the Task to the confrontation in the hospital wing. When Sirius finally came up for air, Remus was astounded.

"How—how could this have happened, Sirius?" he breathed.

"I don't know," Sirius sighed heavily. "But Fudge doesn't believe a word of it, which is going to make our lives much more difficult. Dumbledore sent me to tell the Order that it's time to get back together again."

"I figured as much," Remus nodded. "Going to tell Belle next?" he asked with a small smile.

Sirius tried not to look Remus in the face. He wanted more than anything to see Belle. But not yet.

"I… I mean, that is… I was told to wait here for further information—if that's not a problem?"

"Sirius, come on," Remus raised his eyebrows. "You _own_ this house. You're welcome for as long as you like. I'll set up the couch for you, if you want to grab a bite to eat."

"Thanks, but _you_ own this house. You're paying me back, remember?" Sirius rose from the couch, clapped Remus on the shoulder, and made for the kitchen. Sirius flicked on the lights and excitedly ripped open the fridge. He assembled himself a sandwich and was just about to sit down to eat it, when he heard Remus calling him from the study.

Sirius looked longingly at the bite he was about to take, but set down the sandwich and clomped out of the kitchen.

"What is it?"

"Dumbledore," Remus motioned to the fireplace, where Dumbledore's head was floating among the logs. His silver beard was glowing amber-green among the floo powder and flames.

"I need your help, Sirius," Dumbledore began.

"Anything—"

"I need your permission to use your mother's house as Order of the Phoenix Headquarters. I want you to go there at once and prepare for—"

"—Anything except that," Sirius interrupted. "I can't go back there, Dumbledore… I'm sorry."

Dumbledore's eyes glinted in the firelight. "Sirius, I need you to do this for me. You know full well it's the perfect place for Headquarters. Take Buckbeak and go to Grimmauld Place."

With that, Dumbledore's head vanished with a small pop, and Sirius and Remus were left staring at the glowing orange embers.

"I can't Remus…" Sirius muttered angrily, "I can't go back there…"

"Your mother is gone, Sirius. Things will be different now," Remus assured him, looking at him carefully.

"No," he murmured. "No, it will be just the same… the same as it always was… I can't go back into that house, Remus."

"Dumbledore needs you, Sirius. I thought you wanted to help—"

"I do!"

"And the sooner that we can find a Headquarters, the sooner you'll see Harry again. You can stand to go home for awhile, can't you?" asked Remus.

Sirius looked up from his feet. "For Harry. For Harry I'll go."

"You'd better get moving, then, if you want to be there by morning," Remus replied, and Sirius nodded. Sirius said goodbye to Remus and went to untie Buckbeak. Outside, the crescent moonlight was hardly bright enough to see by and the summer wind felt more chilling than comforting.

He mounted Buckbeak and dug his heels into Buckbeak's ribs. Buckbeak flapped his massive wings and they rose into the air.

Sirius was on his way back to the one place he hated more than any other. His home.

But with the threat of Voldemort on the horizon, it seemed that Sirius had no other choice. Deep down, Sirius prayed that the horrors that the new and improved Voldemort would inflict wouldn't be anywhere near the terror that he had caused thirteen years ago, but what would come would come… and Sirius would just have to meet it when it did.

The End

_Or is it??_

_Sirius isn't out of the picture yet. We know what happened to Harry during year five, but what about our favorite Anamangus? What was Sirius up to while he was all alone at Grimmauld Place? Where was Remus all summer? What happened during Sirius's childhood to make him hate his late-parents' house so much? Who is Sirius's younger brother?_

_All will be answered plus more as soon as I can squeeze writing time during Ruddigore rehearsals and homework in……_

_The Prisoner of Azkaban 3: The Order of the Phoenix_

_(Will contain major spoilers of book five)._


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